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WHO: Tony and the Students and Faculty of Hogwarts!
TONE: B - For badass facial wounds
RATING: PG-13 for potential language
WHEN: 26th Monday, morning after the match.
WHERE: THe great Hall
WHAT: Breakfast time and Tony's showing off his bruises and scratches
STATUS: ONGOING

After his most agonising defeat at the hands of those damn pufflehuffs. Even though it was a good game, that's not the point. Tony comes into the great hall in the morning looking rather clean and refreshed despite the massive bruising on his face and scratches that are only just starting to scab over again, as he knocked them open in his sleep.

It's obvious as he heads to Ravenclaw's table that he hasn't had is injuries seen too. They don't bother him all that much, they only sting when they're touched and he just really is in the mood for waffles so bad he doesn't even notice or care if people could be staring at him.

All in all he doesn't fell that bad that his team didn't win, though he does count it as he wasn't good enough as a captain. He made the decision the second the snitch was caught that he would be a better captain for the next match.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, any magic I've tried to use to get an idea hasn't been helpful."

He shrugs.

"But if you need help. I guess I could help."

"An open eye and keen ears will serve me fine, thank you. Should you see anything suspicious of suspect, just let me know. We certainly can't depend on Snow in this matter."

"I never trust anyone who keeps obvious secrets."

"Present company excluded?"

"We figure out each other's lies fast enough. You don't count."

Sherlock smirked. He obviously already knew that. But he was in a rather good mood this morning. It was fun to tease all the same.

"So what did the others have to say for your battle wounds?"

He raised his hand to his face a little, as if going to touch it then stopping, remembering that touching it would sting.

"Team wanted to make sure I was okay, suggested the infirmary, but ignored it of course."

Forks a few pieces of fruit then eats them.

"Well, seeking medical attention would be admitting the blow to your pride as much to the one on your face. Preferable to keep a bit of physical pain to mirror the inner twinge that loss brings. How sentimental, Tony."

"Yeah, this is one of the times you're over sentimentalising me. I just don't like doctors or hospital-like situations."

He drinks and then offers Sherlock some waffle on the side of his plate.

"Even I know I'm not that 'cool' or deep"

"I'm trying a new technique to learn empathy. Seems more miss than hit. No matter." He waves away the food offering. "What's wrong with doctors and hospitals? They're rather necessary for ones continued well being."

"I think you're still over thinking it there."

He leaves it there for him anyway. He keeps eating the fruit though, he's not going to share that.

"Too clean, too organised. Just makes me feel uncomfortable, really."

"Order and organization makes you feel uncomfortable? Feel ganged up on perhaps?"

"You have to sit there and do as your told. Not really a fan of sitting still... Or doing what I'm told. You know that much at least, though. Seeing as I never listen to you"

"Well, I can hardly object to that. Magic can be a fantastic cure-all in these instances but I suppose wellness isn't for everyone."

He rolls his eyes.

"This isn't a wellness thing. I look after myself just fine. It's just not a big problem or anything. Are you trying to tell me you haven't cut yourself at some point, doing one of your own little experiment things, looked at it and thought. 'it will heal' and then kept going?"

Tony pulls some bacon on his plate.

"Because I know you aren't the type to go running to the infirmary over stubbed toes, or a bump on the head."

"Well, I'm not supposed to motivate people either. I have the luxury of no one caring what I do. Which is why I still think your reluctance is related to Quidditch as much as anything."

"It's not exactly like people are lining up to care about what I d- No one out side of the paparazzi at least, which isn't even an issue in this country."

He side eyes his room mate, at the reluctance comment.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

Sherlock drums his fingers on the table.

Glances at the fingers then back at him.

"You're dying to say it. So go."

"I think I've said all that needs to be said on the matter."

"And that's stopped you before?"

"No, but at risk of sounding redundant, there's old sayings about Captains going down with their ships and sort of an old world charm to keeping oneself most at risk above the lives you command. Penitence, guilt, responsibility, call it what you will."

Tony rests his elbow on the table and cradles his chin, smiling dramatically at him with a little eyebrow flutter.

"You know, I love it when you say things like that in connection with me. Makes me sound so much more noble than I am."

"Tony, you are one of the only men have I ever met who perfers to downplay his good qualities and bank on his worst."

"Bad qualities never disappoint."

He gives a grin, before starting to heap some scrambled eggs onto his plate.