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Who: Cora, Nuala
Where: #77 Inthi Way, Wizarding London
When: 21 December 2007.
Synopsis: Nuala tries to check up on Cora. Cora's a bit too cross to deal with
the younger student
Logger: Cora Petit

-=-=-=-=-=-=

London - #77 Inthi Way - Potter Residence(#1365RAJ)

It really is quite a nice house, if one can look past the leaning. Located
more or less in the middle of Inthi Way, #77 is pretty spacious, with a nice big
kitchen and three levels. At present it's still a work in progress, with the
lesser used rooms only sparsely furnished and the occasional gap in the main
living areas where a planned for piece has yet to materialize. Those areas that
have been completed, however, are homey and welcoming. In the living room on the
main floor a glass-topped coffee table is surrounded by a big comfy couch and
assorted chairs, including one well-worn one that almost-but-not-quite clashes
with the rest of the decor. The kitchen and dining area, on the same floor, are
also fully furnished. The bedrooms can be found upstairs, one obviously the
master bedroom, another containing the paraphernalia of a teenage girl, and a
third currently in use as a cross between storage and office space.

Contents:
Nuala
Obvious exits:
Street

So for the last Friday before Christmas, the city is a buzz. Lots of people are
out rushing around finishing the last of the holiday shopping type preparations.
It's a grey day, with a touch of wind, but it's not terribly bitter, so it's a
welcomed change. There's no snow in the air yet either. It's probably late
morning, and Cora's inside the flat's living room space. Piles of books and
parchments are spread over the coffee table, as she has elected to spend some
time catching up. Harry and Cecily are both off to work for the day, leaving the
young Witch to her own devices. Cora's unusually striped Ocicat is also in the
room, lounging in front of the main window, sprawled out as only a cat who's
extremely comfortable, can be.

So she's supposed to be doing her Christmas shopping for her brother, sister and
grandmother. But Nuala only gets to go out alone with her father so often, and
as he's so easily distracted and frequently off in his own world, there's no
better opportunity to slip away unnoticed through the rushing crowds. It takes a
bit of asking around, but finally the Slytherin finds her way here, tugging her
slightly threadbare coat straight before squaring her shoulders and knocking
soundly on the door three times.

Cora glances up from the herbology text that is opened in her lap. She frowns a
little, annoyed at the distraction, but does at least put the book down on the
cushion next to where she's sitting. She gets up, and pushes a drape back next
to the door, peering outwards through the fogged glass there.

Nuala glances over at the movement of the drape catches the corner of her eye.
Her eyebrows go up and she attempts a friendly smile that promptly falters,
withers and dies. Her expression remains wary yet vaguely hopeful as she waves
and then gestures towards the door, asking without words to come in.

The drapery swings back down covering the glass. There's a noticeable pause or
two, before the lock is heard being turned, and the door, opened. Cora doesn't
quite open it far enough to give admittance though, "What is it, Chittenden?"
she asks, roughly. Really, the door's only open about six inches, and you can
just barely see her face and body clearly blocking the framework.

"Er, to talk to you?" Nuala replies, really meaning to sound more confident
about that than she does. "I mean you... Well, I heard that you'd gotten hurt
and then I didn't see you at school at all." She shrugs her shoulders, even as
she cranes her neck slightly, trying to peer past Cora into the flat with her
usual misplaced curiosity. "Is it true? Did another Gryffindor really try to
take you out?"

Cora snorts a bit, but she does answer, "You'll have to ask other people. All I
remember is waking up in hospital. Again," and she sounds none to happy about
that. "Good day, Chittenden," and with that she will shut the door, unless
interfered with.

"Hey, wait!" Nuala protests, attempting rather spontaneously to block the door
from shutting with her foot. Which may wind up hurting if she's successful but
Cora uses any degree of force. "/I/ didn't put you in the hospital. You don't
honestly still think I'm out to get you, do you?" It's part frustration, part
honest wonderment.

*crunch* goes the door as it slams, unexpectedly, into the boot of the younger
girl. Cora gives a bit of a scowl of frustration, "I'm sorry, but the Potters
don't like me letting people in," she claims, "They get funny about their
privacy. I sort've understand." The door moves just slightly, "Move your foot,"
she then orders.

"Ow!" Nuala protests as the door crunches on her foot. She has little choice but
to remove it, the better to hop around in pain. "Geez, so you think I'm just
here to spy or something? Come out here then if you can't let me in," she states
distractedly, still hopping around in an attempt to nurse her foot.

The last thing heard is, "I'm studying. I've got a month of classes and Owls
work to cover in just a couple short weeks." Then the door is shut, and the lock
is heard sliding back into place.

"Well, you need to take a break /sometime/," Nuala calls back through the door.
"How come you trust some other Slytherin but not me? Oh /fine/," she states,
losing patience with her usual promptness and starting to hobble off.

Now that, for some reason, gets the door hastily yanked back open, and flung
back, "What did you say?!" she takes a few bold steps out, grabbing the younger
girl by the collar, "Who do you think you are talking to? And who are you
talking about?!" Wow. She's angry about something, and apparently, it's at you.

Nuala makes a choking noise as her collar is suddenly grabbed, and then another
as she tries to turn and only strangles herself again. "Merlin's pants!" she
exclaims in surprise. "Who-? What-? Let go of me!" With that, she tries to twist
free so that she can at least turn and face the angry Gryffindor.

Cora attempts to push the girl up against the doorframe, "Let's get something
straight," she says roughly to the girl, "I do not trust /any/ Slytherins. Why
do you even think I trust one, or a few? And who would they be, if in some
ridiculous alternate universe, I did?"

Nuala is rather easy to push up against the doorframe, between her scrawny self
and the fact that's still rather befuddled by what just happened. "Oof. All
/right/," she says in an annoyed tone, raising her hands defensively. "I only
/meant/-" And her she pauses to attempt to stand up straight again, giving Cora
a murderous look. "-That you took /someone's/ word that I'm out to get you and
you won't take /mine/ that I'm not."

Cora gets in the younger girl's face, "I never spoke to /anyone/ about you. Got
that?" she gets quite huffy, "I don't need some snitch telling me about what is
going on. I can keep abreast without anyone's assistance."

"Oh yeah? Then how'd you know I was talking about getting you expelled. I only
ever told other Slytherins and in our common room." Nuala attempts to tug her
jacket straight again, doing her best not to quail under Cora's anger. "So I
know one of /them/ told you."

Cora snorts a bit, then pushes the girl out of the frame, back towards the
steps, to get her out of her way, "Detectives have to be smarter, Chittenden.
You suck at it." Then, she's stepping back through the frame, into her flat.

"I /know/ someone told you, and I know who it is too," Nuala retorts as she
stumbles sideways. "Question is why you're so worked up about it. I'm not
/stupid/, Petit. I just don't let on everything I know." She keeps going even as
Cora steps back inside, the words tumbling out of her angrily now. "But if this
is supposed to be convincing me /not/ to try and get you expelled, you're doing
a poor job of it. Then again, how much would I even need to try, the way you
attract trouble. Maybe you got bit because you were doing something you weren't
supposed to. Maybe all the other theories are just you trying to cover your
tracks. That /would/ be like a Gryffindor."

Cora stops, and turns, and there's this wicked little grin on her face, "Oh so
you /think/ you know who supposed blabbed your ridiculous plot to me? Do tell. I
am most curious as to who gets to take this fall, since I've insisted three
times now, that no one had actually disclosed anything." If the rest was trying
to anger her, it apparently didn't work, for she ignores it.

"Yeah, and that's the strange part," Nuala comments, suddenly going quiet as she
studies Cora keenly. "Why would /you/ be trying to protect a Slytherin... And
from a second year, of all people. It's a bit odd. Then again, so is everything
you do. I suppose you think you can trust /him/. Or her," she adds as an
afterthought, just a little too airily.

Cora arches an eyebrow, "I have no reason to protect anyone, least of all, a
Slytherin," she insists, "Now if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to catch
up on. Missing three weeks of classes, does that to someone, especially during
the same year as OWLs."

"But apparently you /do/ or you wouldn't care so much about me finding out who
it is..." Nuala points out, ignoring Cora's requests to study. "Which is silly
because I already know. I'm a detective. And suck at it or not, I /can/ deduce
things. I /know/ I'm right. But I don't suppose I've anything to benefit from
proving that to you. I /offered/ to be allies, Petit, remember that. But I'm
getting a little bit tired of being attacked and sold out."

Cora pushes back her long uneven locks, sighing a bit, "Chittenden, you do what
you need to do, alright? If you want to keep up the act or attempt to get me
tossed or whatever, it's your game. Don't expect me to play nice. You never know
who's watching. If I were nice, the game would be over, don't you think?"

"This is all just some /game/ to you?" Nuala asks incredulously, though at the
mention of someone watching, she glances back over her shoulder, then promptly
back to the older girl. "Fine. So you won't play nice. I suppose so long as I
know you're only /playing/ at it... But I don't really care about the game. All
I care about is getting to the truth. And to be perfectly frank, it's not
anything to me whether you get tossed from Hogwarts or not, except then it might
make some of my research more difficult. So /that's/ the truth of it. Whatever
you hear from my housemates, well, as you say, I'll do what I need to do."

Cora's response is a solemn promise, "As will I, Chittenden. As will I." Her
hand reaches then to the door, "Have a happy Christmas," she says, in a tight
voice. Clearly, it is not a sincere wish.

"Good luck with your studies," Nuala replies in a formal yet suspicious tone,
coming across just about as sincere as Cora. She watches through slightly
narrowed eyes for a moment, before she turns to hobble back off to Diagon Alley,
rubbing at a sore shoulder where it struck the doorframe.



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