Errand “Bark”ing Up the Wrong Tree Closed

@Jo Morgan

[font=Segoe Print]Rafael hadn’t been too thrilled about waking up early.

It just wasn’t something he made a habit of doing. Sure, there were people who woke up at the fucking butt-crack of dawn – and to each, their own. It didn’t mean that Rafa couldn’t have a good laugh at those people every once in a while. Really, it was rather stupid. Normal people need hours of sleep, athletic and maturing tween boys included. The idea of early-rising for anything truly exhausted him. Honestly. He despised alarm clocks. He despised early schedules.

He despised Jo’s internal clock. You’d think by know, he’d have known her well enough to get her mindset down. Supposedly not. She really knew how to keep him on his toes – and keep him from falling back asleep. He would have to chalk up the early time frame to their spiteful sort of friendship. She had sent him an owl a few days ago – she needed help decorating. Being the noble, chivalrous chap he was, he had been forced to accept. No need to leave her to her own, chaotic devices. At least, this is what he had told himself. It wasn’t because, deep down, he really enjoyed her company. Surely not.

Right?

Whatever the case, it had gotten him out of his warm covers and out the door, albeit reluctantly. It was cold out – it was Christmas Eve, the snow outside still fresh. There weren’t many people out, he noted, either because of the time of the year or the weather. He could see why, too. He shivered slightly in his green hoodie, his dormmate’s shoes soaking through with freezing snow. Sure, he was wearing his school jacket – though, it didn’t seem like it was doing too much. Maybe I underdressed, he thought a bit wryly. A small gust blew right then, sending chills up his spine. Yeah, definitely underdressed.

He was a bit surprised, he’d admit, to see Jo out. Hell, he’d woken up 30 minutes early in hopes to beat her out. Yet, there she was… trying to climb a tree? Rafa grinned – she looked quite hilarious, sliding down the branches like a fish out of water. How the hell does she not know how to climb a tree? A smug sort of feeling flooded into is chest, his grin only growing as the moments passed. It hadn’t been so long ago that Jo had been making fun of him for his lack of finesse (Double, Double, Toil and Trouble). Perhaps, this time, he could get a bit of revenge.

It seemed to him that Jo hadn’t noticed his arrival yet, having been a bit preoccupied. No matter – he’d soon fix that. Watching her with a shit-eating grin, he audibly stifled a laugh. “You okay there, chicken wings?” he joked, his smugness ever-apparent. “Need an instructor?” Stepping up to the tree’s prodding branches, he shoved his foot against the bark and hoisted himself up quite skillfully. He wouldn’t tell her this, but he was quite experienced in climbing trees. It had been one of many dangerous activities he and his friends would partake in during his glory days in Argentina. Though, he was a bit rusty – he spit out a few pine needles, a generous gift from the limb that had smacked him in the face. No matter. Having made it a good way up the tree, he looked down, Jo standing only a few feet below him.

It was then that he noticed her sweater – green, like the forest. She looked quite festive, actually. “Jealous, Christmas Tree?” he asked smartly, a massive grin on his face. “Can’t even climb a tree?” He took a nearby pinecone in his hand, and gently threw it at her. It his her shoulder gracefully, before coming to rest in the snow. [/font]

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@Rafael D'Spacito

“You okay there, chicken wings? Need an instructor?”

Jo swiveled around to face the familiar voice behind her, wiping brown bits from her hands as she put on a scowl.

“Well, you might get up there more easily since your bird-brain is so light!”

Rafa was good at sports - Jo knew that well enough. However, she just hadn’t expected him to be so limber. It took a good amount of flexibility to hoist your leg up that far, and Jo was secretly impressed with the way the boy seemed to scurry up the tree.

Then it struck her that Rafa probably had no idea why he was climbing the tree in the first place. Did he know he was supposed to be gathering branches? What about how many branches he would be needing? Did he know what mistletoe looked like? She’d forgotten to include an illustration of the wreath or an explanation in her owl - she’d just told him that she needed help making ornaments for an errand. Knowing Rafa, he probably just wanted to one-up her. Still, he was surprisingly agile for a Quidditch-hardened beefcake. She’d never watched any of his games, so she didn’t have any sports-related material to make fun of him with. She’d have to go and watch one of his games, she guessed. Maybe she should wave one of those giant placards with his name in glitter. That would be amazingly embarrassing.

She watched the boy climb for a bit, and was opening her mouth for a joking compliment when he spoke.

“Jealous, Christmas Tree? Can’t even climb a tree?”

“Jealous? Not on your li...”

She stopped - Rafa seemed focused on something else at the moment. One of the branches shook as if something had been ripped from it. Jo squinted to get a better look, but a swish of his arm and something was hurtling towards her at an alarming speed. Yelping, she tried to duck and avoid being pelted with whatever object he had thrown, but a light impact against her shoulder confirmed her evasion skills were a bit worse than expected. A lonely pinecone rolled off of her and onto the grass. The Gryffindor looked up at her frenemy, her mouth opening in mock horror.

“You did NOT!” The indignant shout counteracted by a smile, she pushed her foot down onto a protruding root. If Rafa could do it, then so could she! Leaping onto the lowest branch, she attempted to pull herself onto a higher one, but found nowhere to go- she was only dangling by her fingertips with no good chance of ascending. The girl let go with a sigh, and rolled onto the ground. The pale snow that tickled as it melted against her neck was soft and fresh, great for snow angles and snowmen and little snowballs.

Perfect for snowballs, in fact.

Jo pushed herself up and shook the wet clumps of snow from her braid. She scooped up a bit of snow in her hand - a stray pebble chipped her nail polish, but playful revenge was the only thing on her mind. Picking out the blades of grass and stones, she tightened her grip on the sphere.

Three...two...one...now!

The snowball sailed in a graceful arc towards her target’s chest. Would it succeed?




(WC:533)

@Jo Morgan

[font=Segoe Print]“You did NOT!”

Jo seemed pretty appalled by his pinecone-throwing skills. As to be expected. He was pretty fantastic, after all, and it was rather easy to get jealous. He grinned widely at her initial reaction, taking in her shocked and humorous expression. He wouldn’t admit it, but he liked when she fought back. It made his jokes all the more fun. “You got eyes, Christmas Tree?” he joked, wiggling his eyebrows. “Or, are you just in shock?” He shrugged in a smug way, gesturing towards himself with a humble sort of look. “I tend to do that to people, you know. I’m quite amazing, after all.”

He hated it, but part of him worried a bit. Of course, this was just a massive joke – it was obvious, right? Surely, she could see through his acting skills – he was in no way an egotistical fool. At most, his ego kept him from making stupid decisions. Jo knew that – at least, he thought so. They’d hung out enough times, you’d think she’d get the right idea…. He didn’t feel totally at peace, falsely bragging and all. His bottom lip tucked itself between his teeth, the smile still on his face. Maybe he should be a bit more careful.

In the midst of his inward banter, he nearly missed something incredibly amusing. He would have taken a video, if his phone were working. To his entertainment, Jo had begun climbing the tree again – trying to, that is. The imaging just got better and better as the moments passed; he was definitely going to replay it in his head whenever he was feeling down. He watches as she hung off one of the lower branches, kind of like a sad panda bear. Wait, no. She had lost her grip, plummeting into the snow in a slow manner. Rafa withheld none of his judgement, a laugh bursting from his chest. “Ha!” he jeered, pointing at her with a smug look on his face. “You suck!” He foolishly allowed himself to drop his guard for a second, his focus absolutely shattered by his laughing. There was no salvaging it now. Who can’t climb a fucking tree?

In his moment of glorified jeering, Jo had been plotting her revenge. The snake. She had waited until his most vulnerable moment to strike, too. He hadn’t at all expected the snowball she threw – it could have been a flaming projectile, the way it flew. He would never know for sure. All he did know was the feeling of the snow hitting him square in the chest, like a brick or something. The sudden surprise gave him a jolt so bad, he fell about two limbs down the tree in sheer shock. It took him a moment to register what happened, awkwardly positioned in the branches and pine needles sticking to just about every part of his small, eleven-year-old body. “H-hey!” he finally yelped in defense. Oh, no she didn’t. An overwhelming sense of competitiveness filled up his insides, the same burning flame that had won him countless football games. She wants a war? She’s gonna get one.

His hands instinctively groped around his surroundings, meeting an army of pinecones, all at his disposal. A playful look on his lips and a dangerous look in his eye, he steeled himself, rearing his arm back in a throwing position. “Fire the cannons!” he cried with a note of finality. With that declaration, he released a volley of pinecones towards his adversary. The air became a mess of forestry, all falling towards Jo. [/font]

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588 words

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@Rafael D'Spacito



Jo whooped loudly as the snowball struck him perfectly in the chest. She was a bit surprised to see him lose his balance, and for a second was afraid he would tumble to the ground - but luckily for the both of them, Rafa landed safely in a few branches lower.

“You got eyes, thunderbird?” With a guffaw she shot his quip back at him, but she was already kneeling in the snow with the intention to recreate her success. She’d do more than just re-create it, however. She’d one-up herself by making a whole army of snowballs.

It was the moments like this, as she giggled uncontrollably trying to scrape together snow for yet another ball to pelt her opponent with, that she realized she wouldn’t give up Rafa’s company for anything else. Rafa wasn’t her friend, and she’d make sure it stayed that way. All of the Acid Pop girls looked up to her - treated her like an authority and listened to what she had to say with respect. She wasn’t sure they were really listening, though, and none of them knew her as anything other than the strict, kind “leader” she’d forced herself to be in order to keep the rambunctious group in order. Rafa... saw through all of that. He wasn’t afraid to call her out for her pretentiousness or her weird beetle-collecting. If she did something wrong, he’d have no qualms in ruining their fragile “friendship” with a harsh word or two. Would an Acid Pop girl risk their “friendship” by doing the right thing? Maybe, maybe not. But Rafa didn’t see her as a strict Gryffindor leader. She wasn’t sure exactly what he saw her as, but she was damn sure he saw through that paper-thin facade. Rafa was loyal and proud - a true Gryffindor. In the few years she had spent in London before Hogwarts, Lady Aithne had taught her to treat Gryffindors with contempt. They were big lumbering brutes who wanted to die for a “greater good” that was even more mythical than the beasts their heroic ancestors fought. Incapable of thinking rationally or twisting their morality to reach a larger goal, they were remnants of a culture and values long gone. Could a Gryffindor survive in the modern business world? Only a few months ago, Jo’s answer would have been a clear and resounding no. But Rafa had made her change that - he was a fierce and brave kid. If she had to go into the chamber of secrets and could only take one person, he would probably secretly be her first choice. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting her “friend” hurt since Rafa could very well punch a hole through every piece in that giant chess set, and she knew that when she was in trouble, he’d be there to have her back. Of course, that was assuming he want the one who had got her into that “trouble” in the first place.

One. Two snowballs down. Her mind now in machine mode, her fingers flew as they scooped and squeezed, scooped and squeezed. Three. Four.

“You know you need to get the branches with the pinecones still attached, right?” she asked him absentmindedly.

Rafa had been quiet. Far too quiet. Suspicious, she looked up and was met with a triumphant yell.

”Fire the cannons!”

Her normally attentive eyes widened far too late. Rafa had the high ground, literally and figuratively. It was raining now- raining woody pieces that bounced off of her head and shoulders.

Whoa! Ah! Oops! Gah! Ouch! Her hands flailed about her as she danced around, desperate to deny herself a dastardly death by pinecone. It must have seemed like some kind of strange interpretative ballet from where Rafa was sitting, but that was his problem.

Covering her head and shouting, she tumbled out of the range of fire. “Not fair!” she laughed, even though it was definitely more than fair.

The pinecones seemed to stop for a second, and she looked up to find she was a bit farther away than she thought. Giggling, she began to return...and only then realized that she had made a grievous mistake.

Her beautiful, precious snowballs were ripe for the taking.

(WC: 700)

@Jo Morgan

[font=Segoe Print]In the midst of their war, Rafa subconsciously noticed Jo’s production of snowballs. It seemed as if she thought she could hit him again. That's funny. Sort of – he felt a pang of worry, as silly as it was. Perhaps he did have a good reason, though – she had definitely proved that her throw was something to be respected. If he ever hoped to win their little duel, he would have to give her no mercy. And it all started with her stockpile. The snowballs. Take those, and she’s completely open.

Rafa steeled himself, rocketing the pieces of wood at a new pace. The sky filled with pinecones at an alarming rate, his aim true. He had fallen into a bit of a rhythm, actually. Pick, pick, pick, throw. Pick, pick, pick, throw. His pinecones were flying cleanly in groups of three, all pushing Jo farther back, farther from her stockpile. Farther and farther from victory. A premature victorious grin crossed his face, and his tosses slowed, preparing for further action.

She had finally retreated to a comfortable distance. Perfect. Taking full advantage of her retreat, Rafa supported his foot on the trunk of the tree, and deftly kicked off, taking to the air for a quick moment. Though, due to the fact that he was only feet above the ground, this was short-lived. In order to save his ankles, he broke his fall with a messy somersault, coming to rest on his arms and knees. Now covered in snow, he stumbled with jelly legs over to her stockpile, the snowballs ripe for the taking.

He gripped one in his hands, and wasted no time in bringing his arm back in a throwing motion. Oh, there would be no mercy. “Don’t fuck with a Quidditch Player!” he announced loudly, bringing his arm forward at lightning speed. The snowball launched through the air at a deadly pace in a perfect sort of throw, flying right for Jo’s chest area. The only way she would be able to avoid the projectile was to duck, or jump out of the way. He didn’t pleasure himself in a result, though, instead picking up another snowball with a firm grip. He continued his assault defiantly, firing snowball after snowball towards his adversary.

Eventually, he groped the ground for another snowball – to find none. A dreading sort of feeling crawled through his chest, a frown shadowing his face. Shit. He looked around for another weapon with shot eyes – it was then he noticed how ridiculous he looked. His hands and lower section completely caked in snow, giving him a stunning resemblance to a yeti. He was shivering quite a bit now, his nose and ears red and his skin a bit paler, but somehow, he didn’t feel cold at all. On the contrary, he was too hot - his blood flaming with adrenaline, the kind of feeling you get after a good exercise. Though, he didn’t pay attention to any of this, his mind set on defeating the other Gryffindor. With shaky hands, he began to make his own snowballs. Though, Jo had most likely had a pretty damn good advantage – it had never snowed in Buenas Aires, and he hadn’t really been outside in his first years in England. As a result, his snowball production skills were nonexistent. The jumbled balls he held in his hands were more of clumps, barely staying together in his hands. He still launched them through the air, but this time, his attacks were more messy, the snowballs either falling apart in the air or completely missing his enemy.

At one point, during one of his more ambitious throws, he had lost his focus. As he released the snowball from his hand, his foot caught on his opposite ankle, and he completely lost balance, landing in the snow with an ‘oof’. The fall kind of knocked the air out of him, and he rolled around on his back, facing the sky. It was then that a thought hit him. It was rather spontaneous, really, and he was lost wondering where it had come from. It was the most inopportune time, in the midst of a snowball war with heavy stakes. But it was there, demanding his attention.

He really hated her. Jo. She was annoying, and rude, and messy. Except… she wasn’t. It was just the words he used to describe her, in hopes of keeping their relation strictly frenemy. Truth was, she was none of those things. She was more… observant and quick-witted. It was really great, he hated to admit. He would never say it out loud, but she was probably the only person in Hogwarts he really trusted. He couldn’t really explain why – maybe it was the way she was real. With Jo, you never really wandered what was going on in her head. She was just real, honest. She never worried about hurting his feelings. She said what was on her mind. What he was trying to say was, she didn’t treat him like he was made with glass, as so many other people did. In fact, she reminded him more of his friends back in Argentina – always eager to banter, and get in shenanigans, and one-up each other. It was the best type of relationship, he realized, whether it was good or bad.

He really couldn’t register it all that well, but when the world finally came back into focus, he realized he was laughing. Like a madman, actually, his eyes sealed shut and his hands gripping his sides tightly. He must have been a really strange sight, coated in snow and hysterical with laughter. The cold had come back, too, and he shivered wildly, his teeth chattering with renewed fervor. He didn’t mind it so much, though. His mind was still a bit set on the euphoric feeling his thoughts had strangely brought him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that his guard was dropped completely. He was completely open – it was his losing move. [/font]

@Rafael D'Spacito




Curses! It was too late. With a catlike grace her enemy leapt from the tree (a quite impressive feat, in fact), and rolled to a stop like a superhero. Clambering over the snow to his prize like a baby giraffe learning to walk, he declared,

Don’t fuck with a Quidditch Player!

The snowball hurtling towards her chest at an alarming speed would indeed strike its intended target if she did not duck or jump out of the way.

But Jo had made a slight error - one that neither could have foreseen.

She had indeed ducked... just not enough.

“Or what?” The girl taunted as she looked up, bending down to reach for some snow.
With a wet smack, the ball made perfect contact with her face. It took her a minute to register what had happened - she was on the ground from the impact. A cold, burning sensation spread through her cheeks as she wiped them free of icy sludge.

She turned towards him with a sharp ”Oy!” but his response came in the form of another snowball. Poof! It crashed against her wet sweater, sending her back a few steps. This was immediately followed by another, which bounced off her knee and disintegrated.

There was only one possible solution in her mind - Rafa had intended to go for a headshot. This meant war... if she could get around to it, that was. She yelled as another snowball bonked her on the head, crumbling into cold chunks in her hair. Jumping from side to side to avoid the endless onslaught, she looked at the boy once more to see if he had at least grabbed any branches for the wreath. However, the sight that befell her eyes was much, much more delightful.

Rafa was out of snowballs. Even better, he was completely covered in snow as he scraped together barely cohesive lumps and tossed them at her feet. “It’s so nice of you to give me more snowball material!” Jo taunted, compressing one of his own and sending it flying right back at him.

“You gotta squeeze them more because they’ll fall apart.” She muttered, but was unsure if he had heard her.

He was still throwing those idiotic clumps, but most barely left his hand before they fell back into the snow, which he just scooped up again and tossed.

“Ohhh...!”she loudly called out to him in a mocking tone. ”So that’s why we lost this Quidditch season!”

They hadn’t lost to all of the other houses yet as far as she knew, but they certainly were on a steady trek to the bottom if Rafa didn’t up his Chaser game.

“Watch out for that Bludger!” She smiled as she gripped her own, preparing her sweet, sweet revenge.

As she threw it, however, he perfectly bent back as it slid past his head like Neo from the Matrix. How... How had he...

Moments later, he was sprawled out on the ground. Apparently, Rafa was just a very, very frequent (and a very lucky) tripper.

Well, it didn’t matter now, because he was on the ground and completely defenseless.

She had to act quickly. A smaller snowball would do. She grabbed a handful and stopped... then a wide, wide grin broke out onto her face.

It was always times like these when the ideas came.

The metal backs of her earrings fell silently into the snow as she twisted the orbs and dumped out all of the glitter into the snowball. When she added both, it was actually quite an impressive amount. If all went well, he’d still be finding bits in his clothes and hair for days!

Another scoop of snow completed the icy glitterbomb. She packed it tight, cracking her shoulder as she prepared for the strike.

Rafa’s eyes were shut tight, and he was laughing. No matter - they’d see who was still laughing when her nefarious plan was done!

3-2-1! She threw it at him with all her might.

Someone’s halls were about to get decked.

@Jo Morgan

[font=Segoe Print]It was just like Jo, to hit a guy when he was down. Really, Rafa wasn’t sure if she were a Gryffindor – or secretly a Slytherin. The idea of her being in the house of cunning was definitely a possibility, as her merciless nature also came with a side of witty jokes and bright ideas – he would entertain himself with this idea later, when he wasn’t humoring himself on his own adrenaline. But in all honesty, her breed made the worst type of enemy. Sure, he had his action-prone tendencies working for him, but those could only go so far. And they weren’t working as of present, as he laid in the snow, clutching his sides and laughing.

The snowball had come seemingly out of nowhere, just like all great attacks do – it spiraled through the air rather gracefully, like a bird in the air, – and boom. Her aim had been pretty spot -on or something, because her snowball had hit him right in the face. Like a slap. That action woke him up, that was for damn sure. His laughter immediately ceased, his grin wavering to resemble a look of shock. Wait…. Did she….

He sat up, brushing some of the snow from the ground off his shoulders, attentive enough now to realize that he had left himself rather vulnerable. He must have looked strange, right then – his face resembled that of a hibernating animal waking from their slumber. Completely dazed. It took him a moment to notice Jo’s special touch. In the midst of his inward turmoil, a little sparkle had caught his eye – he followed the gleam, looking down at his sweatshirt. His heart nearly stopped. “Jo!” he growled, a mix of shock, amazement, and aggravation laced in his voice. No way. No fucking way. “What… Glitter?” He sputtered that last bit a bit brokenly, as if stating, ‘really?’ Jo was capable of a lot of things, but this endeavor had quite surprised him. He didn’t know she had it in her.

The seeming glitter-bomb had assaulted his appearance, leaving him hopelessly and utterly sparkly. The mix of color trailed from the bottom of his sweatshirt to the tips of his hair, getting more and more shiny the farther up you looked. It had also left his mouth gaping in shock, his cheeks red – he would, of course, blame this on the cold. How am I even going to walk inside now? he wondered with an ever-sinking feeling. The girl had put him in a touchy situation – good thing he was a Gryffindor and not a Hufflepuff. Other people’s opinions didn’t matter as much to him, and he would brush off any weird looks he got. Maybe throw in the bird, it was his favorite gesture.

He wasn’t really sure how to respond to this act of war, so he stood up, brushing any snow left on him to the ground. Looking at Jo with a raised eyebrow and an ever-growing grin, he stated, “Ever considered Quidditch?” His statement was a bit weak, as were his knees. It really was cold outside. “You’re a pretty good shot, you know. Not nearly as good as I am, but I suppose you’ve got a bit of talent.” He shrugged, crossing his glitter-covered arms with a wry smile. Rafa wasn’t sure if she had even been present at the previous Quidditch Game – it had been his first, and he had scored the only goal out of all the members of his team. He prided himself in that fact, and would happily share with anyone who asked. But that was beside the point. The really interesting thing was, Jo actually did have considerable aim. It was, perhaps, good enough for the Quidditch Pitch. Perhaps he should offer her flying lessons some time, if she hadn’t already taken them.

He deftly shook himself out of his thoughts once more – Jesus, that was happening too much. Any more heavy pondering, and people would mistake him for a Ravenclaw. He rather liked his house. Deciding that there was no way for him to top Jo’s glitter projectile – for now, at least – he sighed, rubbing his neck. “You needed me out here?” he asked, this time with an air of seriousness. “Or, am I out here for no reason? You know, I do have homework to catch up on.” He shrugged in a way that suggested nonchalance, looking up into the tree. She had been climbing it earlier… what was she searching for? “Looking for sticks, or something?” [/font]