Susan H. Bones (omfgsusan) wrote in imperimentisv2,
Susan H. Bones


Who: Susan and Zacharias.
When: Sunday...evening?
Where: Hufflepuff commons.
Rating: Ehhh...PG?
Summary: Hahahaha Zacharias fainted and Susan investigates.

Susan slammed her Pribbler shut, her ordinarily good-natured face furrowed with annoyance, and stared expectantly at Zacharias, the object of her frustration, impatiently awaiting some sort of explanation for his sudden collapse. He was still slumped haphazardly on the couch, looking very unhappy indeed. She waited a few seconds. Nothing. Not satisfied by his silence, she got to her feet, standing as tall as she possibly could for her petite frame (which, admittedly, was not very impressive, but Susan H. Bones happened to be rather intimidating when angry, thankyouverymuch), and glared at her friend in a way that was quite characteristic of Zacharias himself. Ignoring the fearful looks from a few of the younger years - they'd evidently witnessed a displeased Susan before and weren't keen to do so again - she stomped her foot with girlish petulance and immediately began to berate the harassed-looking blond.

"Zacharias Smith, you ungrateful git, you had better tell me right now why you fainted or I'll give you the hexing of a lifetime and don't think for a second that I'll go easy on you because you've just passed out because I won't and for heaven's sake stop glowering at me like I've just insulted your mother before I turn your hair purple."

Susan had apparently developed a fondness for run-on sentences, or had merely forgotten to pause for breath between threats.
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Susan H. Bones did happen to be rather intimidating when angry, even though she was at least a head shorter than he was. But principle was principle and he folded his arms and glared at her.

"I don't know. Apparently these things happen."

It was a lie, certainly, but he was hardly going to tell her the real reason, and definitely not in front of anyone else.
Susan frowned, one hand on her hip and the other fiddling dangerously with her wand. She was used to having her way - perhaps a little too used to it - and did not react well to insurrection.

"Insufferable," she muttered, rolling her eyes. She went on talking in that frantic, rapid-fire way she always did when she was flustered, speaking so fast that her words ran together. "Zacharias, I'm not a complete idiot, we both know these things don't just happen, there's got to be a reason behind it, people just don't conk out at the drop of a hat without just cause."
A few of the younger years still looked fearful, and squeaked at the glower he shot at them before looking back at Susan.

"There happen to be about two dozen younger kids here, Susan, and I'm not about to start talking in front of them, not with the way gossip flies in this bloody place."
"Fine," Susan snapped. She seized Zacharias' collar and pulled him roughly to his feet, dragging him out of the common room and into the deserted corridor. Under normal circumstances, she would have at least attempted to be somewhat gentle with him, considering he'd fainted just a few minutes ago, but she was too busy worrying about what unseen force had caused his literal downfall to think about what damage she herself might do. She let go of his shirt.

"Okay. We're alone now. Care to explain?"
"Ow! Bloody wench..."

He folded his arms again, leaning against the wall, mostly in an attempt to not look as though he still felt somewhat lightheaded.

I am going to kill Morag MacDougal.

"No. Not really."
The words had barely left Zacharias' mouth before Susan's wand was pointed square at his face. She was not in the mood for his typical hostility and, wench or no, the girl meant business.

"Smith!" she said dangerously. "I'm going to count to three, and by the time I've finished, you'd better be fessing up, or fainting will be the least of your worries. One..."

Her grip tightened. "Two..."
"Finefinefinefine just get that out of my face!"

One day he was going to have to pinpoint the exact time Susan managed to become one of few people he'd let do this, and then steal a Timeturner and go back and knock some sense into himself.

"If you repeat this to anyone, Susan, I'm never speaking to you again."
"Fair enough," she said with a nod. "I won't tell anyone."

Susan lowered her wand, still keeping a firm hold on it, just in case. She couldn't help but smirk a bit. She knew it was probably more than a little wrong to be so pleased about having sway over her friends, but Zacharias was a special case; more often than not, he deserved to be put in his place.
The smirk was infuriating, the fact that it would probably - no, definitely - turn to laughter in about half a minute even more so.

He really was going to have to find the perfect way to repay Morag.

He scowled, fixing his gaze on a point above Susan's head.

"I have a thing about gore, all right? And bloody Morag kept talking about Russian midwives."
Susan blinked. "Russian midwives," she repeated. "You fainted because a Ravenclaw you barely know was talking about Russian midwives."

She'd always known Zacharias was an odd one - even by her standards - but this was just silly. "Wait, okay, hang on," she continued. "How are Russian midwives gory? Aside from the fact that they're Russian."
"Because - because," there was some mild flailing, "she kept describing and then she showed me a picture. And if you laugh, Susan H. Bones, I'm not ever going to forgive you."
"I'm not laughing!" Susan was too confused to laugh, to be honest. "Just calm down and explain this rationally, if you please, because I'm having a hard time believing that a picture of a Russian midwife made you faint."

She would have liked to add, 'Even you're not that big of a sissy,' but she thought that may have been pushing her luck.
He glowered at her.

"When I was ten I got hurt playing football with my cousins, and I didn't realise until I saw a reflection of myself covered in blood. So I don't like gory stuff, all right?"

He muttered something under his breath that may have been "couldn't have bloody thrown up instead, could I?"
"What has a football injury to do with Russian midwives?!?" Susan said exasperatedly. She peered up at him - damn him for being all the way up there, the tall bastard - and raised an expectant eyebrow, wearing an expression reminiscent of a peeved Professor McGonagall.

"And I'll thank you to stop looking at me like that, Zacharias, honestly, I'm trying to help you."
"I don't need help. I'm fine. Or I would be if that bloody Ravenclaw hadn't decided that I needed a picture of exactly what it is Russian midwives do."

He did not, in fact, stop glowering, although he shifted it from Susan to just glowering in general.
"Proof of your being 'fine' remains to be seen," Susan grumbled irritably.

Her brow furrowed. Zacharias was always so resistant whenever she tried to get involved - which, from an outsider's point of view, would seem rather wise, as Susan tended to meddle to the point of hinderance - and it always made her feel so terribly vexed. Susan's natural instinct was to step in and solve her friends' problems for them, whether they wanted her to or not, and any opposition coming from their end made her want to throw a fit. It baffled her when her 'helpful gestures' were met with defiance; couldn't they understand that she did what she did because she cared about them so much?
To be fair, Zacharias was resistant when anyone tried to get involved, only marginally less so when said someone was a fellow Hufflepuff. He folded his arms and scowled indiscriminately at the opposite wall.

"Fine. What proof do you need?"
Susan opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again when no words came out. He'd gotten her there. She didn't know what constituted 'proof,' but she was not about to admit that. Certainly not, she was far too proud.

" many fingers?" She raised her hand, three digits suspended.
He gave her a look that quite clearly said 'that's the best you can come up with?'

"Three. Happy now?"
"Yes." Susan cringed. She hated being outsmarted. "Just...just don't faint again, okay?"

Her look softened; now she just looked disquieted, rather than angry. Amongst a long list of things Susan Bones was determinedly unwilling to confess to anyone, she had a special little soft spot in that great big heart of hers for one Zacharias Smith, even if he was an insensitive wanker.
"Yeah, because I really enjoy it so much I'm going to do it on purpose," he muttered. "Will you stop looking like I kicked your puppy if I promise not to intentionally faint while you're around?"
"Agreed," she said with a laugh. "D'you reckon you're well enough to walk back to the common room unassisted, or do I have to carry you?" The wicked smirk had returned.
He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I can walk back to the common room fine, Susan. Besides, I thought you and Will couldn't cope with... what was it, my body mass being roughly the equivalent of a walrus?"

What? It wasn't like he was above cheap shots. The Golden Boy could attest to that.
"Perhaps comparing you to a walrus was a bit rash," Susan said, poking out her own tongue. "A blue whale is much more accurate."
"Susan H. Bones, I am not as heavy as a blue whale. Or a walrus." He glared at her again. "I'd hardly be a good Chaser if I was."


11 years ago


11 years ago


11 years ago


11 years ago


11 years ago