Let Us All Make History

Aren't You Having Fun?

    "Oh John I thought that was you! Going to Hogsmeade I imagine? Well I hope so, I've been getting bugged all week by boys asking if I will attend them to the village. I was rather hoping you'd muster up the courage to ask me before I had to confront you. But oh I understand...procrastination." Mary announced with a squeaking little laugh, pushing past Sherlock and Molly roughly before taking John in her arms and planting a large kiss on his lips, almost as if she was just proud she had that ability. Sherlock began seething with rage, in fact he noticed that most all in accompaniment went quite red, their fists clenched as if they were all getting ready to punch Mary's overdone eyebrows into her skull. It was Sherlock's personal temptation to push Molly out of the way and kiss John just as powerfully, and in the moment it seemed like quite the opportunity to one up that girl once more. It would seem, however, that he was becoming just a bit more rational, for he allowed himself to hold back and let time take its course. If John really was trying to be friends with Sherlock once more, then Sherlock had all confidence that his relationship with Mary would dwindle. Thankfully no one but John got the opportunity to push Mary away; he managed that task on his own accord, laughing rather nervously while glancing at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, almost as if hoping he hadn't seen that.
"Mary...hi. Well um, actually I've got a detention so I'm not going to Hogsmeade. Sorry. But I'm sure you can tag along with the boys, they're all going and I'm sure they'd be happy to show you around." John offered. Mike looked a bit eager about that offer, for he nodded excitedly, obviously imagining himself with a beautiful girl on his arm, a beautiful girl like Mary Morstan...John's being rude to her was almost enough to put a smile on Sherlock's face. Almost.
"Oh well yes, yes of course I understand. Oh John you rascal, what have you done this time?" Mary wondered in an almost playful voice, too caught up in swishing her hair around to notice that John was taking minuscule steps back, so as to avoid her to the best of his abilities.
"No it was Sherlock this time..." John started.
"It was Molly's fault!" Sherlock defended as quickly as he could.
"I was not responsible for the explosion!" Molly debated, crossing her arms and shaking her head pointedly.
"She's such a liar." Sherlock murmured, and for a moment Mary watched the two go back and forth with a raised eyebrow, as if she was not so politely waiting for them to be finished before she concentrated back on her 'boyfriend' who was very obviously displaying no interest whatsoever. It brought joy to Sherlock's heart to see that John was growing to hate her as most all rational people did. She deserved nothing more.
"Well then, John if you are not in attendance I shall be happy to join your friends. We'll be sure to talk all about you John, I'm sure you've got some embarrassing stories that I would love to hear." Molly said with a little giggle, to which Mike nodded in agreement, looking ever so eager to spill. It infuriated Sherlock to see the idiocy boys adopted when there was a pretty girl. They didn't care at all for looks; oh it really was infuriating to see them lose all sense of human values, like respect, dignity, kindness. The girl could be the most horrible girl in the world (Mary) but so long as she had a pretty face the boy would just collapse at her feet so as to ensure his place in her ice cold heart. Sherlock hated boys for precisely that reason, and yet that was only one negative that was counted by a very long list of positives. It was better to be in love with the idiot than with the jerks, the only shame was that boys neglected to notice his beauty. They mostly just focused on his rotten personality, which in his case was inconvenient. He wished that boys like him were offered the same luxuries as girls, at least then it might be a fair playing field. Thankfully no one responded to Mary, instead they all just rocked back and forth on their heels until finally Greg suggested they get a move on. John lingered in the carriage with Sherlock, who was now trying to discretely get his pocket mirror into his hand, so as to check his hair without John noticing. Obviously it was a perfectly acceptable thing to do, however he knew that the moment John suspected that Sherlock was prettying up he would duck away once more, make some excuses and stop a disaster before it began. This was going to be quite the odd experience, however Sherlock was almost glad that John chose now to get some alone time, rather than be thrown together once more for detention. It would be easier to get the awkwardness out of the way without an audience such as Snape. When finally the last of the goodbyes were said John sighed heavily, crossing his arms and looking about the carriage as if he suspected he wasn't allowed to.
"It's certainly bigger than it seems." John decided finally, as if that was the only comment that came to mind as he looked about the beautiful interior.
"Almost like magic." Sherlock agreed subconsciously, regretting his sarcasm for a split moment before finally (thankfully) John began to laugh in agreement.
"Ya, it must be." He agreed. For a moment they just stood there, Sherlock leaning against the door frame so as to make sure it looked normal that he wasn't looking at John. Maybe John would honestly think that he was interested in the carpet and wouldn't take it personally.
"So what do you want to do then? Are there any parts of Hogwarts you're just dying to see?" John wondered with a little bit of a smile, as if he found it amusing that someone might be very intrigued by his school.
"Not really, I've found that I've seen most of the interesting things Hogwarts has to offer." Sherlock admitted with a shrug.
"Oh I doubt that, I doubt anyone has seen even half of the interesting things Hogwarts has to offer." John said with a chuckle, smiling at Sherlock as if he couldn't wait to prove him wrong.
"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock wondered suspiciously, wondering how someone in seventh year had neglected to find all the fun aspects of the school.
"I mean we only use like four floors, there's about eight. There are so many abandoned classrooms, all filled with magical junk that everyone's forgotten about. I've heard so many stories of people touching vases and getting their hair blown up, or looking in mirrors and seeing things stare back...one person even found a boggart!" John exclaimed excitedly.
"A boggart?" Sherlock wondered, never having heard such an odd term before.
"Oh it's um...it's a creature that takes the form of what the person is most afraid of. For me it might be..."
"Mary Morstan?" Sherlock offered quickly, before immediately covering his mouth with a gasp. John could only laugh, looking around as if to make sure no one else had heard that before nodding very slowly.
"She's becoming quite the hassle, I had almost hoped I wouldn't run into her when I came here but I swear she can like...smell me. I don't even have classes with her yet I see her about three times a day, it's just weird." John admitted with a sigh, running his fingers regretfully through his hair while Sherlock tried his best not to stare. His hair really was nice...it really was.
"I knew that as soon as you told me, she's just the worst. She was supposed to be the champion too; everyone said that she would be chosen. I'm happy to have disrupted that." Sherlock said proudly.
"Ya, the tournament. Have you given any thought to the second task? I'm sure it's got something to do with flying it's just really weird. I mean a doll, levitating? It's a very vague clue, if it's a clue at all." John admitted with a sigh.
"Well yes, flying I imagine. I think they'll take like...hostages? Or something like that. I think my doll resembles Molly, and so I think they'll have her up in the air somehow." Sherlock decided with a shrug.
"No, no that can't be. Mine is some blond girl, and if they really think that I'll be risking my neck to save Mary then they are sadly mistaken." John giggled, making Sherlock smile once more, happy to see that at least John had a level head when it came to pretty girls who had rotten personalities.
"That's an added bonus, all you have to do is just pretend to lose your grip and then..." Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head as if he was worried that his jokes were getting too morbid before he finally pushed open the door to the carriage, stepping outside into the lawns and expecting John to follow. It was nice, just being able to talk with him. For a moment Sherlock had forgotten that there was anything weird between them, and yet as soon as he remembered he felt a feeling sort of close to nausea as he looked over at John and felt the boy's eyes on him. It was almost as if Sherlock thought there was something off, as if John was just being nice to him because he wanted something. Maybe help with the tournament, maybe something more? It was just curious, to be talked to as though you were a real human even after such an interesting ordeal at the Yule Ball and before. Most boys would condemn Sherlock, hide away from him as if he had some sort of infectious disease, and yet John was so open minded that it almost made Sherlock sick just thinking about it. Why did he just have to go and fall in love with the only straight boy that wouldn't just break his heart and be done with it? Why did the breaking process have to be so drawn out?
"So off to the abandoned hallways then? Find some cool stuff, get in trouble?" John suggested with a grin.
"Oh you mean more trouble than we're already in?" Sherlock presumed.
"We're not in that much trouble, besides, it's your fault." John insisted with a shrug.
"It's not my fault, it's Molly's fault." Sherlock said flatly, still sticking with that argument.
"It's yours." John sang.
"It's not!" Sherlock insisted, however he just couldn't help but laugh, because obviously it was. He had been stupid enough to drop that bloodroot into the potion, and that had caused the explosion.
"You must've been pretty terrified; you almost lost your hair." John snickered, making Sherlock wince and pat at his curls so as to make sure they were still there.
"So would you." He pointed out.
"I would look find bald, you on the other hand...well the word pickle comes to mind." John offered, making Sherlock gasp in horror.
"You're calling me a pickle!?" Sherlock exclaimed, to which John held up his hands defensively.
"Well not now, but if you went bald..."
"I'm going to John, we're all going to! Oh my god, I'm going to die a pickle...I hope I die before thirty." Sherlock said flatly.
"Now don't say that, no Sherlock I was kidding. I'm sure you'd look beautiful if you were bald." John said rather forcefully, because they both knew it wasn't true at all. Sherlock knew that most all of his beauty was due to his hair, a good eighty five percent at least, and without it he would have to depend on his body shape and glowing skin for a mere fifteen percent of gorgeousness! Well that wouldn't be nearly enough to carry on his tradition of being the most attractive on in the room, what a tragedy it would be!
"If you were bald I'm quite sure you'd be able to pull it off. You'd somehow make it cool, you'd get those sunglasses and like...like cool." Sherlock said positively, looking at John and trying to mentally crop out is hair. It was difficult to compensate for forehead size, and yet Sherlock suspected that John would look rather like an egg if he went bald. This of course, would be something he could work around. It had come to the point where Sherlock was so in love with this boy that even his hair falling off wouldn't hinder his desire. Egg or not...Sherlock would marry him.
"Thank you, I think." John muttered, nodding a bit apprehensively as they made their way into the entrance hall. The castle was nearly empty, for everyone was now at Hogsmeade, frolicking about the Wizarding village and having a grand old time without Sherlock or John. In fact it was rather ideal that they didn't try to fit in any shopping at the village, simply because now they got the honor of solitude together, which was exactly what Sherlock needed. They climbed the steps in silence, save for John occasionally waving at a couple of paintings that he recognized. Sherlock kept his head down, for he was still rather scared of the man in the painting that had yelled at him during his first Hogwarts excursion. However if the man saw him with John then maybe he'd at least know that Sherlock was able to keep good company. They were around the third floor when something caught Sherlock's eye, a large doorway that seemed heavily traveled and yet was still quite foreign to Sherlock as he passed. Something about that doorway sparked his attention; something almost drew him there, as if all of his hopes and dreams lay beyond that arch...
"What's in there?" Sherlock wondered curiously.
"Oh that? That's just the library." John said with a bored sort of shrug. However Sherlock's eyes literally light up, for no one had ever told him that this castle housed a library! Oh he loved libraries, and even more he loved books, and knowledge, and sitting silently for hours on end and just exploring...oh this was wonderful!
"Let's go there." Sherlock decided, turning from the next set of stairs and walking agressivley towards the library doors. John jogged momentarily to catch up, chuckling a little bit as if he couldn't tell if Sherlock was being serious.
"Wait, seriously? The library that's like...boring?" John insisted, to which Sherlock just sighed, for he had finally found one flaw in John's personality.
"Of course it's not boring, have you seen some of the stuff that is in books? Oh the Beauxbatons library is marvelous, in my seven years I've read almost all the books on their shelves...well no one had ever told me Hogwarts had a library!" Sherlock complained, darting through the doors to see, just as promised, a large and beautiful library spread out before him. There were rows upon rows of books, and in between them were desks sat underneath beautiful stained glass windows that were filtering sunlight in all sorts of various colors. It was a beautiful sight, so beautiful in fact that it almost brought a tear to Sherlock's eye...
"You're serious?" John muttered again, for obviously there was some disappointment in his voice.
"Well do you have any better ideas?" Sherlock snapped, starting his way to the shelves to browse. John tagged along rather apprehensively, as if he was still rather suspecting that Sherlock was playing some sort of joke on him. And yet no, this was real, this was fascinating!
"I had rather hoped to go exploring." John admitted.
"We are exploring." Sherlock insisted, pulling a volume on magical creatures from the shelf and dashing over to one of the desks to read.
"Not in an educational way, I was thinking more in a dangerous sort of way. It's more exhilarating, ya?" John suggested with a little frown.
"No." Sherlock said simply.
"You're impossible." John groaned, falling into the chair opposite of Sherlock as the boy propped open the book in front of him.  Sherlock had stopped listening, for these were creatures of Britain, as opposed to the ones he saw in the French books. The French were rather egocentric, and it was hard to find much information on the magical excitements that were hidden in other countries. Of course this issue didn't bother the muggles, who undoubtedly had all sorts of fancy computers and whatnot; however the poor wizarding kids who had to resort to the Dewy Decimal System were always quite inconvenienced when what they wanted to know wasn't in print. And so Sherlock zoned out, only half aware of the fact that John spent most of the time he was reading just staring at him. Now this could be due to his exasperation, wondering when he was finally going to be done, or it could be due to his sudden love, for as Sherlock sat there reading he adopted a very natural, carefree look to him. The stained glass windows were illuminating his skin just beautiful, splashing him in an array of lovely colors and making him look just so desirable. Evidently this had caught John's attention, for he seemed just about as fixed on Sherlock as Sherlock was on his book. He was just halfway into bowtruckles when finally John let out a low groan, finally breaking eye contact so that he could let his head fall onto the table in agony. 

"Sherlock...it's been an hour. Are you really planning on reading that entire book?" John wondered miserably.
"Well um...would you be happier if I said no?" Sherlock wondered a bit nervously, suspecting that this was leading up to be a trick question.
"I'd just be happy if you told me you're going to check it out and finish it later." John admitted with a shrug.
"Well why don't you take a book?" Sherlock asked.
"I didn't want to encourage you! I thought that maybe if you thought I looked bored out of my mind you would have realized that you were being a little bit inconsiderate." John muttered with a bit of a defeated sigh. Sherlock hadn't even been paying attention to John, so how could he ever realize he was bored? And besides, considerate would not be a word he used to describe himself. Most all of those who knew him would undoubtedly agree.
"I thought you looked fairly entertained." Sherlock admitted.
"I was not." John said flatly, lifting his head almost as if to interrogate Sherlock on what about his blank stares could have possibly been entertaining.
"Well then I suppose I will check this book out, and then we can go upstairs to break some rules if you so insist." Sherlock decided flatly. John sighed thankfully, bringing his head up to look at Sherlock once more, as if he was actually going to miss such an opportunistic experience. For a moment they just looked at each other, for a moment it seemed as though they had both forgotten why it would matter that they looked at each other. For a moment it didn't seem wrong, in fact it seemed well...necessary. Sherlock enjoyed looking into John's eyes, and he was almost sure that by now John was enjoying looking into his as well. It was a bit of an odd sort of trance, broken only by Sherlock blinking and going quite red, causing John to do the same and look away rather shamefully.
"I'll go check this out then." Sherlock decided finally, getting to his feet before either of them could say anything else. He wanted to remove himself from this situation, for he was sure he wasn't the only one with the overwhelming temptation to take advantage of the solitude of this library and jump across the table. He was sure John was feeling something, and yet he had also been sure (and wrong) twice before.

"Ya...ya go ahead. I'll be here." John agreed, to which Sherlock nodded and scampered over to the desk where a small, rather birdlike woman was waiting. He gave her the book to stamp, which she did as well as write down his name and take a good mental picture, as if she was preparing herself for making a case against these unruly foreign kids, stealing books and whatnot.