Who Needs Sleep When You Can Go Owling? (Derek)

It was barely 7 am when Ridley slipped out of the dungeouns. She was too hyperactive to be sleping right now, and besides, what kind of masochistic people sleep in such a cold place? Slytherins were cool and all, but their cold tolerance had to rival Elsa's (yes, she'd seen that movie) and in times like the freezing morning it'd been today, Ridley briefly wonders if the Hat has taken all factors (read: her body temperature) in consideration when sorting her. Perhaps the Gryffindors' rumoured ffireplace could do her good.

The morning outside the castle was fairly warm and had Ridley, who as at the time safelly cocooned in her robes, sighning appreciatively while she made her stroll through the grounds and to the Owlery. So far, she hadn't sent any owls home from Hogwarts, but her dad had showed once or twice how to do it, so she was certain in her experiences with the birds themselves. She had her letter ready, pressed tightly to the insides of her robes.

It was adressed to her brother (though he lived with her parents, so they were probably going to read it, too) and was easily the best payback Ridley had crafted in her long, long life. It contained all the awesome things Rid had managed to get done in the longlasting three days she'd spent at Hogwarts. She hadn't written about the coldness in the dungeous because it would ruin the delicious jealousy Conroy was so capable of. That'll teach him not to take her to the Metts when he has the tickets...

As she finally entered the (thankfully) empty Owlery, save for the owls themselves, Ridley set out to find an owl that would make Conroy's little muggle eyes widest.

Derek woke up earlier than usual, at about 5am, after a long peaceful sleep, and he found that he couldn’t possibly go back to sleep. He’d gone to bed super early last night and it only made sense that he was up so early too. So he changed out of his stripy pyjamas into his school uniform and snuck down the stairs to the common room quietly. It was still dark outside, and he didn’t know if he was actually allowed out this early, so he took a seat at one of the designated study tables and wrote a letter to his family, then carried on reading a cool book he had got from the library yesterday.

By the time he’d finished the book, it was starting to get lighter outside and since he didn’t have anything better to do, he decided that he didn’t care about the rules. Nobody would stop him going out. It was morning anyway - it wasn’t like he was in any danger. After packing up the stuff he had spread out across the table, he slipped out of the common room and bounced down the stairs. Then there was the annoying huge main staircase. Even at this time of day, when they should be sleeping, the staircases were moving all over the place, and it took him a while to get down them and outside.

Once he actually got to the grounds and was met with the sight of the sun rising in a way that he imagined poetry should be written about, he wasn’t sure where he was going. But then he remembered the letter he had just written! Wonderful. His mother had written the week before last and Derek still hadn’t replied, so this was a fairly urgent errand.

It was quite a surprise to find someone already in the owlery. It was only a first-year, though. He felt so happy not being one of the tiny young ones, now! Although technically he still was. “Good morning!” he said with a smile, heading towards a tawny owl in the corner. “What brings you here so early?” Look at those majestic, wonderful conversation making skills. He was so much better than people thought. Humming quietly to himself, he struggled to tie the letter to the reluctant, angry owl’s leg.

Ridley sighed inwardly upon hearing a voice. It wasn't that she was feeling particularly unsociable this morning, because she wasn't, it was just that it was a darned Brit. She'd spent enough time with her dad to be used to the Irish folks' accents, but this boy (for it was a boy speaking to her) sounded too... Scotish (that was it) for her sensitive ears too early in the morning. Oh, glorious America, where are you when one actually needs you?

Why was he so chipper, anyways? No one but her was allowed to be this micheviously chipper this early in the mornings. They boy was obviously insistent on coversation, so Ridley was going to give him one. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her impromptu Irish accent, though, no siree, she was sticking to her Chicago talk. Throwing the boy a look, Rid determined that he was Ravenclaw with not-too-dark hair and boyish charm. Pfft, it was too early for her to converse with non-Slytherins.

Now, how to reply smartly? "Whassup?", she replied. Well, so far, so great. "I'm owling my brother. You?"

Hmm, now, which owl to choose? This big one was looking posh, but Conroy would probably just think it was fat, stupid him. Setting on a snowy one that looked too bored to care about any of the shi-sorry, stuff Conroy wold throw at it, Ridley plucked out her letter from her robe pockets and pushed in the bird's uncooperative claws and shooed it away with her brother's (read: parents') adress.

Now that she was done with that particular task of utmost importance, Ridley turned to the boy from before, inspecting him while he chased his own owl, and waited for his reply.

Whassup? What did that even mean? He recognised the accent, from all the TV shows with Americans in them. Why was she at Hogwarts, being so wrapped in Americanness? Derek was from Scotland. Scottish people didn’t use words like whassup, or interact with American people, or even know how. So he was a bit stuck. The girl turned around, so he decided to delay his answer. If she was going to talk like an American, he was going to talk like a Scot. So he just needed some time to gather up his Scottishness and metaphorically smack this girl, this BAMPOT, in the face with it!

While he thought, he glared at the difficult owl. “Why do you hate me?” True, it was early in the morning and nobody was in the best of moods early in the morning, but that moody face and random kicking was sort of annoying. Eventually, he managed to attach the letter to the bird’s leg and let out a triumphant cry of, “Finally!” After patronisingly instructing it to take it straight to his mum and da, he sent the owl off.

Then he looked back to the girl, seeing her waiting for an answer. So whassup probably meant “how are things going for you?”. Understandably. “Nawt much,” he shrugged, sounding uncharacteristically cool. In a Scottish sort of way. “Sending a letter tae ma and da and wee brother Trev.” It was so much effort talking like this. His accent was half English. But he knew full well Scotland was cooler than England, so he should keep it up.

“So are ya a first-year, lass? How’s Hogwarts?” More awesome conversation making skills.

Ridley did most definately not try to hide her amusement as the boy, who apparently didn't think names were important, tried to somehow make his owl take the letter because of reasons (one of them being for one, because of the fact that it was polishing her self-confidence and for two, because it was probably expected from Slytherins). Not to mention how snicker-worthy him talking to the bird was for Ridley (who had been in the same situation, but what the boy doesn't know won't kill 'im).

When he finally managed to shoo the owl out through one of the windows, the boy turned back to her, resuming their truly glorious so far conversation. With his obnoxious Scotish accent. The Irish were better when it came to accents, it seemed. Huh, who would of thought? (Let me answer that for you - Ridley wouldn't've.) No matter, though, Ridley was not falling for hurtful-to-the-ears trap, nope. She was gonna be American 'till the end.

"Oh, cool, you've got a lil' brother!!" she replied with all the Chicago-ness she could manage. "Mine's older than me, and i's'not really as crash as they say." She poted. Her brother didn't take her to the Metts when he finally got tickets, so he deserved bashing.

"Yep, first-year all the way. You? Hogwarts' great! I'm plannin' a cuppa two-three adventures already!She smiled widely, just to underline the adventure part. "Name's Ridley, by the way"

Now, let's see that Scot marvel through the perfect American gems she'd poured. She just hoped their conversation would go on further so she could add more to the pile. She could probably pop in Irish along the way, if the boy ended up being too horrible.