{the treasures that prevail} billie

Ben wouldn't say he was disappointed, exactly, only he was. Disappointed and frustrated beyond belief. He'd been hoping Orlaith would make an appearance. He'd been imagigining her blond curls, smooth tan skin, and legs for bloody miles for months now and, well, there had been a shift since his birthday he hand't appreciated in the slightest. He, of all people, understood being busy but maybe it was a sign? It figured that as soon as he finally felt ready to commit to someone seriously, they disappeared. He'd found himself somehow in the second floor after having explored the rest of the house, looking for a good place to just read and brood for a bit. He wasn't quite ready to go home yet and he really wasn't in the mood to find another corner and snog someone else when all he wanted to do was snog Orlaith, or be sociable.

Finding a reading room was an unexpected pleasure, as he peaked his head in, and found it empty. There were large glass windows and he strode forward, taking in the scene of other students spending time outside and playing. He was fairly sure he saw quite a few people snogging in various sections, drinking, and having a good time. Part of him wanted to go down there and join everyone else, but he knew exactly what he would do if he did. He'd nicked a bottle of spiced mead on his way up, figuring he'd indulge a bit somewhere quiet so he could make sense of his thoughts. He placed his drink on the window sill as he propped himself up and made himself comfortable on the ledge. He took out the worn copy of Castle Cartography from his back pocket, flicking the charcoal pencil he'd stashed there between his fingers, as he picked up from where he'd left off.

As he read, he took idle sips of his mead, feeling himself mellowing a bit as he refocused his thoughts towards what he was reading. Every so often he'd hum and his blue eyes would flicker out the windows. He had a habit of perching along windows and high places. The Ravenclaw towers had always been a favorite haunt of his. One he wasn't likely to be spotted by nosy Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws tended to steer clear. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen any Hufflepuffs loitering since them and the Slytherins were in the bottom floors of the castle. As he read though he underlined little interesting bits or he'd doodle something small scale, bits of the castle and the grounds.

@Billie Fay

Billie skipped down the stairs two at a time, heading back down to the party. Most of the breakable downstairs things had been put upstairs before the party had started, but she must have missed the box of her aunt’s old, classical records; someone had turned off Nola’s favourite song to put on some classical piano and her Gryffindor friend hadn’t been happy about it. Billie had quickly gathered up the old records and dashed upstairs with them to stash them away. Party-appropriate music was playing once again.

As she came to the second floor’s landing, Billie hesitated; she could see the door to the reading room was open. That was fine, she thought; they’d said people were allowed up to the second floor, so if some people were in there then that shouldn’t be a problem. But she couldn’t shake a feeling that she should check, just in case. Just in case what? She wasn’t quite sure, but after some hesitation, she stepped lightly down the hall towards the room in question.

Billie peeked in the gap through the door, really hoping she wasn’t about to stumble upon some couple making out on the chaise in the reading room. It was fine if they were! None of her business, really. She should have just walked past… Oh. There was just one person in there. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should just quietly back away and leave him to himself. 

The blonde knocked lightly on the door, feeling nervous doing so even though it was her house. Well, it might have been her house, but he was still already in the room. It felt impolite to surprise him. Was he… Reading a book? (It was the reading room, after all, a voice in her head quipped). “Hello,” Billie said, hovering by the door. She didn’t want to interrupt, if he was fine being in here by himself. She couldn’t quite fathom why someone would go to a house party just to find the quietest room they could to read a book in.

“Are you okay?” she asked simply, giving a small, polite smile. Billie knew him, sort of; she’d learned a lot more names this term, after becoming prefect. They weren’t really friends though, so she had no idea whether or not this was a normal sort of thing for him. One of her hands lingered on the door. She really wasn’t used to this hosting business.

A timid knock on the door made him raise his eyes up. Ravenclaw prefect  his mind supplied helpfully, as he blinked, trying to process things. Also the girl who's house this was, he added. That should have been a more pertinent thought but well it felt sort of like he'd been caught doing something against the rules. A familiar feeling, actually, since he tended to skirt around tedious things like rules and boundaries. He liked to view those things as like outlines of life that only the simple-minded and uninspired actually followed. He was fairly good at not being caught usually, he'd have to think of a good warding spell. That seemed beyond rude, though, at least here. In a place that wasn't his own. "Lo'." he finally answered, small smile curling up along his mouth, as he attempted to look as non-threatening as possible.

"Erm, fine. Just ah- reading?" he murmured, feeling sheepish, as his hand rubbed the back of his neck. The fingers that held his pencils twitched with the urge to fidget before he attempted to use more words. "Nice party." he complimented, feeling his smile expand enough the dimples on his cheeks were prevalent, as he gestured vaguely towards the window, referencing the crowd of rowdy teenagers. "There's some serious snogging happening by the tables." he added, amused despite himself, as he pointed at the referenced corner with his pencil. "My perch is ripe with blackmail material." he quipped, eyes crinkling, as he shrugged his shoulders and resisted drumming his fingers against the glass to release some nervous energy. Was he allowed to be up there then, or had she come to kick him out?

“Oh,” Billie replied, nodding encouragingly, as if reading a book at a party was the most normal thing in the world. It was her first party, she thought, defending him against her own instinctive judgements. Maybe it was normal! Not by any of her friends’ accounts of what parties should be like, of course, but, well — That aside, who was she to judge? It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone upstairs half an hour ago to take a moment to herself before making herself come back down, smile back in place. Parties, she’d learned, could be stressful.

She hovered at the door for a moment, unsure about whether or not his reading comment had been pointed (as in, she should leave him alone) or merely informative (as in, she should still as if he needed anything). “Oh,” she said again, glancing at the ground briefly before looking back up. “Thank you. It’s more Nola and Mavis’ party, though.” They’d organised the food, the invitee list, the music. “Just, my house.”

People were snogging? That sounded right. “Is there?” She asked, politely interested. After a beat, she stepped properly into the room, making her way over to the window to look at where he’d indicated. She clasped her hands in front of her to stop herself from fidgeting, and chose not to sit down. Billie didn’t really have much interest in other people kissing — actually, it made her quite uncomfortable. It felt like a private thing, like she was doing something wrong just by seeing it. So she didn’t look for long.

“Are you having a nice time?” Billie asked, trying to sound just-the-right-amount of casual and serious. She meant her question, but she didn't want to put him on the spot.

It wasn't normal, really, to skulk in a dark secluded room at a party and read. He'd just always needed a minute to get to the right mindset for these sort of things. He was a simple guy at heart, who wanted simple things, and sometimes the pressures of being a teenager really weren't worth it. He liked to have fun, spend time with his friends, and just basically do what he wanted to. Parties always had a level of expectation he disliked, merely because he didn't like to adhere to whatever expectation that was if it didn't particularly suit him. This party, as an example, the general expectation was to partake in the activities. He wasn't sure he wanted to just yet, simply because the girl he'd wanted to partake in activities with was notably absent.

It had tanked his enthusiasm to socialize quite a bit and Ben had always enjoyed the aspect of people watching. Its why he liked to draw so much, so he could put to parchment all of the little observations he noted in his head without resorting to using words. Just my house. The words seemed rather tentative and he found himself studying the blond witch before him with a more discerning eye. That didn't really sound like the type of girl that wanted to have been a host to a party of teenagers. He knew from experience it could all be rather stressful but it was supposed to be fun, too, and he wasn't sure if Billie was having fun or not. "Its a nice house." he added, smile working its way past his teeth.

He studied her as she crossed the room, getting a better look once she got close enough to the window. She was pretty, he thought idly, but her blond hair reminded him starkly of Orlaith. He really had terrible luck with blonds, didn't he? What grim thought since he liked therm so much. Stupid golden waterfall hair and its alluring entrapments. "Sure, I just needed a moment to get settled in." he was quick to assure, noting that she seemed rather nervous. "Are you? You seem a bit-" he waved a hand, trying to come up with the right word, before letting out a breath. "Melancholy, maybe? You can sit with me if you want. I've been told I'm an excelent listener." amongst his other exceptional qualities of course, but he had a hunch that wasn't really what she needed. He doubted a snog would've helped and he didn't really know her enough to offer her a hug in comfort.

He could listen, though, if she wanted to speak.

Billie smiled a small smile when he complimented the house. It was her house, but it wasn’t, she thought. It wasn’t as if she lived here. People didn’t really ask questions about that sort of thing at parties though, she’d discovered. Even Mavis and Nola were vague on the details; the far more interesting part of it all was the fact that they had a whole house to themselves — a whole house, where the only adults present were only a couple of years older than they were.

Thinking about seventh years inevitably had her thinking about Phillip (as if this room, this house didn’t already remind her of him). She glanced at the Slytherin when he asked if she was okay, too. A bit...? She raised her eyebrows slightly, hoping he wasn’t about to say anything negative. “Oh,” Billie replied, her cheeks pinkening at the observation as she lowered her gaze. “I’m fine,” she answered politely, a small smile appearing as her gaze returned to the window.

Billie wasn’t especially looking to sit with him — a part of her couldn’t help but fret about what might be going on downstairs (more in the is-everyone-having-fun sense than the is-the-house-getting-wrecked sense, but, both) but it felt too rude to decline. Besides, was she going to leave him up here by himself? Though it would have made more sense to move to the chaise, Billie took a seat gracefully on the low ledge, folding her hands demurely in her lap with another small smile.

“I don’t know if melancholy is the right word,” she told him. Billie glanced at the door, thinking about how strange it was to be sitting alone in a room with a boy she barely knew. “It’s quite busy, isn’t it?” she asked, looking back at him. “I haven’t been to a party like this before,” she admitted. “Have you?”

Judging by her pink cheeks and lowered gaze he'd bet a galleon that she wasn't fine, though he was loathe to push her. Best to tread carefully then. "If you're sure." he said slowly, witholding a frown as he realized he was still holding his pencil and his book aloft on his knee. He slotted the charcoal drawing pencil inside the spine of his cartography book, using it as a makeshift page holder, like he did for basically all of his books before placing it on the sill. He grabbed his meade and took a slow sip, still observing the Ravenclaw that had perched on the ledge with him.

He wasn't sure what about his invitation she'd accepted but he was now curious. She seemed really... doll-like and demure to him and he wasn't sure if that just came naturally or if she was putting up some sort of facade. "Desolate was less gentle than melancholic." he admitted quietly. Trust a Ravenclaw to argue linguistic semantics when describing their general state of being, he thought wryly. She was right, though. Melancholic didn't work if you knew the reason you were sad. Every other description he had seemed invasive and rude, though, and he hadn't wanted to be. "Pretty but sad." he mused deciding that maybe a compliment would lift her spirits, if only a little.

"Yea its just getting started. It gets a bit rowdier the more people indulge in drinks and games, usually." he said, amused, as he flickered a blue eyed gaze towards the Ravenclaw. She was pretty, he could see the allure that had drawn Donnelly in, at least, though he was still incredibly curious. He'd never dated anyone younger than him - they were usually all either his age or older. (Usually older, actually, now that he thought about it.) He didn't like to be put in positions where he held an advantage and it seemed to him the fifth year girls were all a bit... naive he supposed. Gentle and ridiculously pretty, to be sure, but he'd still end up feeling like he was taking advantage somehow. Like Hy, for example, who seemed easily swayed and manipulated. It made him queasy thinking about it, really, and so he'd steered cleared of the 5th year girls as a whole (he'd been completely preoccupied by Orlaith, anyway, so it hadn't mattered).

But he could definitely see the draw. "Yes. To both." he said, a little bit of laughter in his voice as he spoke, and took a peak outside. "Rowdier than this, even. Try not to worry so much about everything. Some people are bound to be miserable no matter how much fun you plan something or how meticulous you are about hosting." he offered, knowing from experience, and having learnt at the hand of his mother. "You've provided the the essentials to a good party anyway. Music, drinks, food, and a healthy boy to girl ratio." he said with a bit of a grin, as he spotted the aforementioned snogging couple take their little tryst inside finally. Took them long enough. He hoped they had some fun. "I always run out of my mothers parties, and those are a blast too. Sometimes its nice to get a breather before you dive in headfirst into the chaos." he added with a bit of a sigh. He wasn't someone that enjoyed being out of control. He liked having his faculties about him and staying sharp and observant. It'd always been like this for him and so it was difficult to give in fully to a party like this.

“Desolate?” she repeated, her smile tinged with amusement now, like he was joking. She raised her eyebrows a fraction, not entirely believing that someone would say that to someone they barely knew. She glanced back out the window over her shoulder, and was glad she wasn’t looking at him when he called her pretty. Sad and pretty, he said, both of which made her uncomfortable in wildly different ways. She didn’t know if she should laugh or shake her head or thank him, so she said nothing, just smiled a little.

“Honestly, I didn’t provide anything,” Billie said, glancing back at him, not wanting to take credit for any of it at all, when she’d done so little. “Nola and Mavis really did all of the work.” Mavis had even provided her with an outfit, she thought. Bilile hadn’t even dressed herself; Mavis had picked out her hair clips, she’d done her makeup. Billie had felt quite inadequate, in fact, doing basically nothing for this party. She was glad some of the girls were staying over; it made her feel like she was contributing, even though it wasn’t really her that was doing any of the work for that, either.

A breather, right. That was what she was doing, sort of. She didn't like leaving for too long, but sometimes she just needed a moment. “What kind of parties does your mother have?” Billie asked, genuine curiosity seeping through. This was normal, she thought. People at parties talked to each other, didn’t they?

He absolutely would say it to someone he'd barely know. He had, in fact, though he'd sort of tried not to phrase it quite that way. He supposed he could've tried to have been a bit gentler but he was still a clumsy boy in many aspects. Girls usually liked compliments, though, so he figured calling her pretty would gloss over the fact he'd also said she looked sad. Not in a pathetic sort of way but more in a- he still couldn't quite describe it. She definitely didn't look happy considering this was technically her party. She didn't even look enthused, though considering how demure she was that could just be a regular thing. Her face was placid, like a calm lake.

He studied her, trying to work out what was bothering him, and not able to pin-point. Something was itching at him, though, like he'd seen this sort of behavior before and he was pretty sure he didn't like it. "I'd say providing the house is arguably the most important thing." he murmured, laughing a bit, because it was slightly absurd she thought otherwise. "I doubt Nola and Mavis have a spare house lying around without parental supervison." he said, voice wry, as he shot her a bit of a grin.

"Loads. A lot of business parties but also family gatherings and soiree's. Fancy food with zero caloric intake, and lots of dancing." he supplied, sighing a bit when he thought of it. "We usually have a pretty large party right before the new year." he tacked on. In celebration of his birthday, partially, but also because his mother enjoyed showing off and the extravagance of it all. Some parts of it were fun, of course, but sometimes the formality was grating. "You think you'd do it again? Host a party?" he asked curiously, scanning the outside again in search of a familiar blond head.