sortinghat_logs | It's not gay if we fight monsters

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It's not gay if we fight monsters

WHO: Murdoc Donoghue and Peter Banks
TONE: Awkward, Snarky and Adventure filled
RATING: TBA
WHEN: THE FUTURE. Whenever Peter gets back from his holidays.
WHERE: The Forbidden Forest
WHAT: Something is going on in the forest, so the two manliest teachers ~~who happened to be there~~ are sent to deal with it.
STATUS: Ongoing

It's a brisk evening at Hogwarts as Murdoc makes his way across the grounds toward the Forbidden Forest. He's been informed of strange goings on from within the forest, presumably the fault of one of the beasts that lurk inside. As the resident Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, he's been asked to investigate the fishy business. It's unlikely that it could be caused by dark witches or wizards, but it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Not to mention he's been moping around the castle or hiding up in his quarters since a few important life changes occured. He's been moodier than ever and even more difficult to deal with, sending him into the forests seemed like a rational idea. Not that he'd be alone, of course. Who better to send as teamwork than the young, enthusiatic flying teacher with a knack for care of magical creatures? Naturally, it only serves as a benefit to the plan that the young man is insufferably cheerful and unlikely to be put down by the foul mood of the older professor.

Murdoc has his wand held close, later it will be used as a light source, but for now it is unneeded. On his shoulder he carries what looks to be a light and almost empty bag, while truthfully he's placed an extension charm on it. He's not the sort to wander off into the Forbidden Forest unprepared, so he's packed at least two bottles of booze.

He's aware that he's meant to be meeting with someone on the outskirts of the forest, but he has no idea who. God, he hopes they aren't irritating.

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Murdoc is quick to shrug the arm off, stepping forward to avoid contact and shooting the other a look that reads: 'touch me again and I will break your arm.'

He sighs pointedly and brushes off his shoulder, as if the other's arm has stained his coat in some manner. "I would imagine someone as old as I would have some sort of experience." His tone is flat and unimpressed, but there's a scathing, sarcastic edge to it.

"I am more than experienced with this sort of nonesense. Your assistance is practically unncessary." He begins to trudge toward the forest, casting a glance over his shoulder at the other.

"However, you may be able to learn something if you come along and keep your trap shut."

Peter just takes a moment to marvel at how the man did not at all comprehend what he'd meant. What a fool. There's a reason the forest is forbidden, and he might have been too young to understand when he was traipsing around in at eleven but he does now. Then he is in motion, darting forward to grab a wrist and spin Murdoc around. "Have a care, man!"

His voice and expression have gone sharp and serious. "Have you any idea what season it is? Are you on speaking terms with the centaurs? What about the nest of acromantulas? I don't question your experience with "dark" creatures, but I damn well am starting to doubt you have any respect at all for anything!"

Murdoc almost snarls as the other grabs him. It's been a long time since he's been around anyone so damn handsy, aurors usually keep to themselves in and out of work. He's still prickly and unsure about this, being touched isn't helping him at all.

"Of course I know what season it is, lad." He tightens his mouth into a frown. It's bad enough that he's being scolded by this brat, it's down right embarrassing that his serious tone had the older man struggling to disobey. It would be foolish to do it out of spite and he knows it.

He jerks his wrist away from the other and lets it drop to his side, giving Peter the most unimpressed look in the world.

"If you want to walk in first, be. my. guest." He flourishes his arms toward the forest like a waiter suggesting a table to a customer.

Peter bares his teeth for just a split second at Murdoc's snarl and the way he jerks away, but a moment later he's calm again and shaking his head. "What's causing the trouble is deep. A first-year could handle the first couple hundred meters in. Things get sticky fast further in. Do you really think you can handle a whole herd of angry centaurs for encroaching without permission? Do you even know how to ask them properly?"

A moment later he shakes his head and then smiles. "We were assigned to work together. So we shouldn't be arguing out here. If you stray too far I won't step in and clean up the mess you make."

He doesn't return the smile, but he nods. Maybe Peter isn't as childish as he first thought.

"You don't have to baby sit me, Professor Banks. I am a professional and a former student. I know what to look out for and I'm not about to go galavantin' into trouble." There's a slight egde of irritation to his voice, but he holds his hand out for a shake anyway.

"Shall we?"

"I don't trust other wizards in the forest. It was hard enough to earn acceptance as it was." But even as Peter says that he reaches out to grip Murdoc's hand firmly. It's a short, enthusiastic shake and then he lets go, though he doesn't step back out of easy contact range. After a moment he shrugs.

"Knowing what's in there isn't the same as experiencing it for yourself. How many times have you been into the forest?" He's already walking off, footsteps light, agile and surprisingly careful.

"Enough." He answers bluntly. He's had his share of experiences, but he doesn't exist in the forest like Peter seems to. He has no intention of making himself baggage.

He mimics the way the other man walks with a slightly more subtle air to it. He's relucatant to let himself be lead about so easily.

"Any idea on what we might be dealin' with?"

Any idea? Well it could be dozens of things, and Peter didn't like speculating too much. He just made a noncommittal sound while he picked his way through a patch of early flowers that were particularly poisonous while he thought about it. He didn't think at all to mention to Murdoc to be careful with them.

Finally he answered. "It's not something that usually makes its home here, or the centaurs wouldn't be so antsy about it. The unicorns and the thestrals have both gone to ground. So whatever it is has worried them too. I need to swing by one of the unicorns' groves to check on them actually. This time of the season is a bad time for intruders to stress them. It's close enough to the full moon that it might be a werewolf pack. Rumors aside there isn't one actually in the forest and dealing with it would be as simple as telling them to move on. I doubt it though. They usually have the sense to return to their homes in between the moons."

Now that he's not trying to avoid being near him, Murdoc is setting his eyes on Peter like a curious hawk. He follows obediantly, paying more attention to the interesting bruising pattern on his neck than the flowers or the words he's saying.

"Right. This ought to be interestin'." He mutters, finally taking his eyes of the bruises to glance about the span of the forest before coming right back to the bruises. There's no way he got those through normal circumstances, but it's none of Murdoc's business. No, he has no right to be curious.

"Did you fall off your broom, boy?"

Yup. Not his business at all.

Peter is aware of his bruises. He's not quite sure what to make of the potions master anymore. Oh it was certainly an adventure and very satisfying in a visceral way, but Peter had been drugged and the other man...hadn't. He's been puzzling over it, but he also doesn't care to conceal the obvious handprint around his throat, or the lumps on his head or the rings of bruises peeking out from his sleeves. If people notice they notice, so he just shrugs casually at the question, ducking down to avoid a vicious plant reaching out subtly to ensnare them. He laughs. "If you need to ask that it's probably for the best if you don't know!"

"I was tryin' to think of a polite way to ask if you'd been rutting with your co-flight teacher."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and trudges over the leafy ground. He didn't seem to realise that he had a knack for making himself feel so terribly awkward.

"Him?" Peter bursts out laughing. "Oh no, it wasn't him that gave me these at all. I think he's still too intimidated by my skill to even think of something like that!"

Once the laughter fades to chuckles he continues. "I won't deny I've been teasing him a bit. A skilled teacher should never be so easily intimidated and jealous of another's skills. He wouldn't have been hired if he wasn't good."

He slows and comes to an eventual stop, knowing they'll be nearing one of the unicorn's groves soon, and pondering the issue of Murdoc. The unicorns know him well enough by now not to care that he's a man but they usually don't take well to men. There's either leaving Murdoc to his own devices or a fun charm he knows. Decisions, decisions.

"I wasn't sure if he was a teacher or some bloke who just wandered into the school with a broom."

He wants to ask if not him, then who, but he's pried enough. He doesn't want to give Peter the impression that he might actually care where he's shoving what and with who.

He looks around him as he stops, not seeing anything particularly special or worth stopping for.

"What is it?"

"Oh he's a teacher! I checked." Peter laughs and stretches, hissing a little as an unexpected soreness pops up now that he's thinking about it. Then he pulls out his wand.

"The unicorns are right past here. You do know how they react to men, don't you? We need to counter that. Now hold still--"

He doesn't give Murdoc time to object before performing the charm. It's a complicated one, but one he's used before on himself and he shivers just remembering the cold tingling of it taking effect. Specialized Disillusionment charms are still Disillusionment charms, after all.

"There! All better. They should perceive you as a woman now." And so will everyone else, he doesn't say.

"I'm not convinced."

"Why do we need to see the unicorns?" He has so much more to say but he's interrupted by a wand suddenly being brandished in his direction.

He shivers himself as the spell takes effect, his hands twitch at his side, wanting to pat at his chest curiously. Other than that, he doesn't really feel all that different.

However, his voice goes up just a little in pitch as he berrates Peter. "Oi! Don't go about flailin' your wand at me without proper warnin'! What have you done?"

"Because when nasty things enter the forest they usually go after the unicorns first. This season is a delicate time for them!"

Peter laughs at Murdoc's new vocal tone and wonders if Murdoc is aware of how feminine it seems. "And it's just a simple Dissilusionment charm; I'll take it off when we're done! You'd make a fine woman, Murdoc."

Letting his eyes wander so purposefully is mostly teasing, but a little bit because Murdoc is attractive and the spell just twists what's there. Of course, Peter is capable of finding almost anyone attractive.

In an act of defiance and sudden self conciousness, he folds his arms over his chest whilst scowling at Peter. He still can't peg what's wrong with him, but being called a woman doesn't seem to stir any objections in him, despite part of him knowing it's an inaccurate word to describe him.

"Like hell I would, Banks. Keep your eyes to yourself and keep walkin'!"

The man is just asking to be teased. How could Peter turn down begging like that? He just doesn't know if he could. All at once he's leaning forward well into Murdoc's personal space, tone soft and smooth like velvet. It's a struggle to keep the laugh out of his voice or the smirk off his face but he manages. Mostly. There's still more than a fair share of mischief in his eyes.

"If I'd known making you feel curvy would make you shy I'd have done this a while ago!" It's impossible to really see past the charm, so his senses register a woman before him, even though he knows very well Murdoc is a man. He likes the curves, honestly. It's a charming look.

A soft pink is slowly building over Murdoc's face, gradually becoming a darker shade of red. He sputters at first, trying to move away from the other in a less than graceful manner. Then he begins to stammer, not finding the words he wants to say readily available.

He tries to make eye contact, to glare at the other and tell him to knock it off. The gleam puts him totally off the mark and he sputters again, looking at everyone but Peter. He's sure he isn't serious in his flirtatious attempts, he's just a kid trying to get an old man to do something stupid. Murdoc loathes it.

"I said, keep. walkin'."

Oh what a lovely little blush. Peter can't hold back the grin anymore, but it's colored by a definite interest seeping into the teasing. He doesn't let Murdoc back off, pursuing with almost predatory intent and then leans in to whisper against Murdoc's ear. Still ostensibly teasing, but he does mean what he's saying. "With that sweet, rosy glow, you must be drowning in suitors."

Then he backs off, rakes his eyes down Murdoc as much for his own enjoyment as for the teasing and slips off further into the woods as if nothing happened. Just through the trees is a very pleasant glade with a small herd of unicorns. The reason for Peter's concern is instantly apparent. Spring is foaling season, and there are some very young foals and some still pregnant mares. He goes still at the very edge and calls out in a very soft voice, waiting for them to come to him.

He chides himself in his head for the shiver that travels down his spine. To his credit, it had been a long time. A very, very long time. Eons. Frustratingly long eons. However, that did not make the man in front of him any less irritating and any less of his co-worker. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to feel the warmth of his muscular frame against his silky, soft cur- REALLY NOW THIS IS HORRIBLY INAPPROPRIATE.

He's bright red at this point, his mouth opening and closing as ghosts of insults pass by without ever becoming solid words. He mutters a 'finally' as Peter turns away and he shakes his head, shadowing him as he stalks off.

When the other stops he almost breaks his nose on his back, he opens his mouth to tell him off for stopping so quickly but forgets once he catches sight of the herd over Peter's shoulder.

Peter catches the shiver just as he turns away, and vows to tease even more once he's checked up on the unicorns. He wonders how long it will take for Murdoc to remember the charm--

But the thought is gone as one of the unicorns approaches. An old mare, with bright eyes that are clearly pleased to see Peter, though she whinnies and does a little nervous dance when she catches sight of Murdoc. Peter immediately steps forward, crooning in a soothing voice and patting her nose and neck until she's calm. The words he's saying are nonsense, really, but the tone speaks of someone well used to working with animals. Soft and almost lyrical, bouncing between different languages with no rhyme or reason but to create the effect Peter is going for.

He proceeds to thoroughly ignore Murdoc in favor of personally saying hello in the same manner to each of the unicorns, though the unicorns seem well aware of Murdoc's presence.

Murdoc watches with feigned disinterest. He's by no means a nature boy like Peter, but he's still quietly excited to be so close to the notoriously shy beasts. Not that he cares, no. He'd rather they proceeded into the instead of stuffing about petting mutated horses.

He attempts to fold his arms to express his impatience, it's difficult at first, he feels like something should be preventing his arms from pressing so close to his chest. He shrugs it off, but it only serves to sour his temper even more.

Hellos given, Peter finally pays attention to to Murdoc again, half-turning and holding his hand out. "Don't be rude. Come over and say hello!"

He makes a come here gesture insistently, and for their parts the unicorns look calmer and some are rather interested in the other teacher.

"I'm NOT.." He starts, then realises he's going to startle the poor creatures. He lowers his voice to a seething mutter. "I'm not bein' rude..."

He scuffs at the ground. "I don't want to."

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