|Scene Title||Magic Narcolepsy|
|Synopsis||Hogwarts' two biggest outcasts meet and discuss it being them against the world.|
|Date||October 24, 1995|
|Watch For||Serious inter-house, inter-year bonding that might in future be dangerous to other students.|
A study hour in the fourth years schedule means that the library is fairly packed right now - filled with industrious students trying to fly through homework that they failed to complete the night before, as the Professors here are certainly not lenient in the matter. However, the table where Cianan sits is predictably empty. There's nobody within three seats in any direction of him, but his studious expression suggests he either doesn't realize this or he just doesn't care.
Which, of course, means there is essentially nowhere for Claire to sit. Quidditch practice got rained out, so she's left with nothing to do except study — taking fewer electives than most sixth years because of her dedication to the sport. She isn't dressed in her Quidditch uniform, thankfully, having gotten the notice that far ahead of time, but that doesn't mean her head isn't a little damp. Obviously she's been outside at some point. Glancing around the library with a sigh, she eventually spots the oddly vacated area and sits down in the seat right next to Cianan. He doesn't mind, right? It's not like she's talking. Out come her Arithmancy notes.
Okay, now that? That surprises Cianan. He never expects any of the seats next to him to actually be taken. So when Claire actually sits right next to him and pulls out her books, he isn't the only one who glances over at her. A whole slew of other fouth years stop their whispering and *stare* for a moment, before hurriedly looking back down at their work. "You ought to reconsider." he says simply, busy copying runic symbols onto an ampty piece of paper. "You got it bad enough already, with the insulin."
Claire is so stuck for a second on the fact that someone has pronounced insulin correctly without having ever had a conversation with her about it that she forgets to speak. After very obviously having to force herself to find words — maybe Claire needs to eat — she says, "Eh." And then turns the page in her book. And then, "I really think it's okay. It can't get any worse, right? And you're always all alone."
"But you didn't know I was born and raised in the muggle world." Cianan points out, his voice very oddly controlled. It isn't monotone, but every syllable seems almost overpronounced and stiff. "I fail to understand how there are people so stuck up and know-it-all, yet they lack the intelligence to do some simple research to find out that your muggle device is just an inkection needle." Pause. "But then, they also act as if my… trances, are contagious." he intones. "Anyway. If you're brave enough to take the seat beside me, you should at least have my name. It's Cianan."
"Trances," Claire remarks, as if trances are absolutely no surprise or anything to make any fuss at all about, despite her having never actually seen one except in an A&E when the patient was acutely psychotic, "are probably about as contagious as diabetes. Nice to meet you." Her smile, whether or not he pays any attention to it, indicates she does actually mean that. "I'm Claire."
"Yes. Though mine tend to appear like fits of narcolepsy, combined with sleepwalking and a lot of shouting. And twitching at the end." One almost gets the impression that Cianan is *trying* to frighten Claire away with that description, despite its flat delivery. And he does pay attention to the smile! It makes him puzzled, which means a furrowed brow. "Uh, nice to meet you too." he murmurs, confused. "You're sixth year. Do they get any more mature?" They being classmates, which he gestures around to will a quill. Not caring at all if anyone notices.
Nice try, Cianan, you get credit for effort: but Claire has spent about a quarter of her life in hospitals. Nothing scares her away, especially not something that sounds just like — "So you have magical seizures. I don't think that's really all that big a deal. Also, narcoleptics sleepwalk so maybe you do, in fact, also have magical narcolepsy. Ever go anywhere interesting? Um." His question has her pause. "It depends on who they are? Some do. Some stay the same. In general, humans are supposed to be more mature, and yet more reckless, at my age than at yours, and I think that's mostly valid, but some people just get meaner. Mostly boys. Girls hit their mean peak at thirteen and go downhill from there."
"Magical narcolepsy." Cianan tries that one on for size, and actually cracks a bit of a smile. "Hey, Robbie - did you hear that? Magical /narcolepsy/." For some reason the word combination makes Robbie, another Ravenclaw, look positively pale and green around the edges. He decides to go look for another book and never returns to his seat. Even though it's a good 5 chairs down. "Suckers." he mutters. "So what you're saying is that it doesn't matter what year we're in, people pretty much suck?" he paraphrases, raising an eyebrow. "You obviously need to meet some of the 14 year olds in my class."
"Yes, 'people suck' is a pretty good outlook to take on the world," Claire says with a sigh, though there's still a hint of smile on the corners of her lips. "And I'm happy to — I could toss Quaffles at their faces, if you want, though that might get me suspended from the team or something. Fighting by school athletes is generally frowned upon." She's also so thin most 14 year old girls could probably take her in a fistfight, but that's completely irrelevant to her line of thinking. "At least you seem to have a good sense of what to do with people being afraid of you!"
Cianan smirks. But again, just barely. "It's better then 'I hate everyone'?" But probably only by a minimal degree. "I wouldn't want you to get suspended. Not when you've been so helpful in giving me new words to frighten people away with." he assures, brushing aside the idea of quaffled students immediately. "I prefer to mess with their heads. And I do. I ignore it, or make it worse." A fact that apparently doesn't seem to bother him too much. "How do you handle it? You ever shown anyone how you have to give yourself injections? I imagine that might stop some of the chatter."
Nodding, Claire says, "That's the way to do it. Just screw with 'em. It gives you the power over the mocking — I had to learn that when I was something like seven, and it was before I even got sick. We were just dirt poor." She opens up to few, but Cianan's Complete Outcast status is apparently making him an instant candidate for Claire's normally reserved-to-friends chattering. "I've certainly tossed pens at people and suggested they take a look at how they work if they're going to be afraid of a simple object that, unless primed, doesn't even have a needle at the end of it. Unfortunately since I use pens now, instead of having syringes, it's a lot less horrific. Saves needing a refrigerator in the dorms, though."
"You too, huh? I had those… fits of magic narcolepsy all the way back starting when I was a baby. And my father, who is a pure-blood but had never said a word about it, didn't even tell me what was going on till we got that Hogwarts mail. So I just thought I was crazy." Pause. "Yeah, we're pretty poor too." he adds, keeping his voice rather low for that recital. One good tale deserves another, and it seems they have a lot more in common then he would have thought. "I ight have paid to see their expressions when you would throw the pens at them." Oh yeah, he's totally serious about that, and seems to veer totally on to another topic suddenly. "You were at that Defense against the Dark Arts class that Professor Noble held, right?"
"Yep. Right in the front. Hiding under my hooded jacket because I was half asleep, honestly," Claire admits, not seeming all that sheepish about it. "But S—Professor Noble," because titles are good, really, they are, "is my friend from last year, so I don't think she's too cross with me for it. Next time I throw a pen at someone I'll be sure to keep in mind that you should be in the area, although it's got to be an insulin pen and not, like," she waves her quill, "a pen. That's not as interesting. I bet you were pretty cross with your father? There's not a shred of magic anywhere in my family on either side."
"I wish I could do that." Cianan admits, gesturing at his back and pretending to flip a hood over his head. "Everyone would think I was having another fit though." Hey, waaaaait. That smile he suddenly sports seems a little dangerous. But, being who he is… it quickly dissipates. "You know her real well then. I hadn't heard of her till this year." he admits, fidgeting with the quill a bit while he stares down the mostly empty page of runes. "It was hard to be mad when he said why he left the wizard world and decided to live like a muggle. And there's rules and whatever about not telling people. They did their best to protect me. Taught me how to control myself, you know?" He doesn't elaborate much on that, just looks a bit sullen.
"She stuck up for me when I was new," Claire offers up in fond review of Siobhan Noble. "And isn't too far off in age that being friends was unusual. Having her as a professor is a little bit unusual, but she seems really good at it — maybe she'll even keep the position for longer than just this year." One can hope. Claire is not above lampshading that nobody seems to want that position very much. "Also, yeah. I can understand not having hard feelings against parents. Mine try really hard not to be afraid of the whole magic thing. And my brothers are all mad jealous."
"I guess that helps, yeah. Nice that she stood up for you and all." Despite it apparently not helping all that much. Not if Claire is sitting next to him voluntarily anyway. "But…" his eyes flicker towards the slowly forming exodus back out into the hallways from his yearmates. "It looks like study hour is over." And he doesn't seem too happy about it. "Maybe I'll see you around, then? I'll make sure to watch the next Quidditch game." Even if she's playing for Slytherin.
So long as Claire isn't playing against Ravenclaw, that's okay, right? And one might interpret it as that Claire is sitting next to him voluntarily because nobody else was — not that Cianan can be expected to. "Good luck," she says, first, and then, "Yeah, I hope so — I'm not too hard to find," and then lastly, "Thanks. Once it, you know, stops pouring."
Cianan wasn't going to analyze the reason why she was there voluntarily. She just *was*, which counts as a minor miracle in his books. "Yeah, sure hope it does stop soon. Wouldn't want any of you Quidditch players going stir crazy without a game." he adds, with his very own wry smile. But that will have to serve as his parting words, since his robes swirl in the effort to catch up to the rest of his crowd - even if it's the tail end of the crowd because he knows better then to try and get into the middle of things.