Rules Meant to be Broken {Timothy}

Cool air settled over the castle as the darkness descended into its familiar corners and long corridors. The night was hushed with only the sounds of ghosts sliding through the thickening air. It was late into the night and the presence of sleeping forms could be felt in the way the silence hung heavily, sleepily, throughout the castle. Wisps of dreams and nightmares flowed, seeking homes in the minds of students and professors alike. Not all would find their place tonight though, for not all who should be sleeping were nestled in their beds.

Footsteps broke the lull of solitude along the stone corridors. The faint tap-tap-tap echoed off the walls eerily, as if to herald the intruder. It could not be helped, though, and no matter how slowly Jett placed one foot in front of the other the soles of his shoes gave away his location. It mattered little to him as he strode boldly into the cavernous library and quietly closed the door behind him.

There was only one thing here he needed, and he needed it right at this moment. There would be no waiting until first light to ask permission. He must know now. Surely he wasn't breaking too many rules with his thirst for answers. Why, the rules in place that closed the library so early where probably for those who would seek to misuse it anyway. Surely they were not there to deter a student such as himself; he would use the empty room to his advantage with no ulterior motives but to learn.

As he made his way past shelves stocked tall with books the moonlight rushed through the windows and fell in slates across the floor. Jett stepped through them, his face momentarily lit by silver. No sleep tired smudges adorned his skin, no lack of luster was in his eyes. The anticipation of finding the tome he required kept him alert and fresh with no thought in his mind but his destination. The light of the sky was enough to read the spines of the books and he ran his fingertips gently across them as he moved; a loving caress. He was almost there.

Timothy's shoelaces were knotted together at the tops, his trainers hanging at his shoulders as his stockinged feet padded silently along the corridors. He yawned, detesting the late night patrols. But he had been selected to wield this power over the other students, and it would likely reflect poorly on him to give it up, or get caught misusing it.

Timothy entered the Library, striding past the stacks, barely glancing down them. If anyone was out of bed to be in the library, they'd be in the restricted section.

He didn't see a light, but the moon was bright tonight, filtering through the windows with enough strength to easily see where someone was going, possibly enough to read by. He slowed when he passed the cordon marking the restricted section, rubbing his tired eyes and properly looking about for another person. He found one, a boy about his height.

"Hey." He scowled. "10 points from..." He squinted, nonverbally lighting his wand tip to make out the color of the boy's tie. "Ravenclaw for being out of bed after hours, and 10 more for being in the restricted section without permission. Whatever it is can wait until you ask a professor permission tomorrow." He thumbed toward the door, indicating that the boy should leave and go to bed.

The sudden interruption of his search startled Jett, causing him to drop his hand from the shelf and turn to face whoever was speaking. It was unfortunate that the other boy had chosen this precise moment to wander into the library, when he was so close to finding what he needed. A few moments more among the dusty volumes and he would have been gone but now he had a distraction to deal with before he could continue.

Jett had learned at an early age that he had a knack for getting people to see things his way; or at least to charm them into letting him get away with almost anything. It was equally due to his heritage and and his upbringing, a case in which nature and nurture both arrived at the same conclusion. There were many ways to convince people, all of which he had played with and practiced as far back as he could remember until now, on the cusp of adulthood, he was proficient in a way that was nearing devious.

He put on an appropriately sheepish look, like he knew he had done something wrong. Of course he hadn't, not really. It was the intention of the act that mattered, and he had only intended to further his knowledge. There was no crime in that. Still, he must play the part if he intended to remain in the library. “I'm terribly sorry. Twenty points is of course a fair price to pay for my rule breaking and I will make no argument on the topic.”

As the light shifted Jett was given a clear look at his accuser. It only took a split second for him to recognize and place the face as a Slytherin boy who he had met once or twice before. “Timothy, right? I had no idea you were a prefect. I suppose I should have guessed though.” He now let the look of shame leave his face and instead placed his charming smile onto his lips and relaxed his posture, slipping seamlessly back into his amiable role. It might take a few tries but Jett was certain he would win Timothy over once he found out what approach to take. “No other rule breakers out tonight? I can't imagine roaming the isles of books is the gravest crime you've broken up this evening.”

Timothy couldn't remember the boy. They probably had a class together or something. His relaxed posture probably didn't herald going back to bed, no, it preceeded the boy trying to strike up a conversation.
"Head Boy, actually, and yes, you're the first I've found out of bed." He replied irritably, stifling a yawn.
He didn't want the boy to dislike him, however, especially since they apparently knew each other. Would it be better to appear more authoritative, or friendly? Probably friendly. "Come on, mate, go to your dormitory, the books will be here tomorrow." He threw on an approximation of his Charming Smile, assymetrical and barely showing teeth, trying to appear more friendly and tired than flirting.

Jett's eyes briefly widened in surprise, Head Boy? He now would be certain to become on friendly terms with Timothy; friends in high places were greatly important. He tried to recall what he already knew about him, basing it mostly on the memories of the two of them and Claudia sharing a drink of butterbeer together in Hogsmeade. If he remembered correctly, and Jett was certain he did, Timothy was someone vaguely like himself, relying on a certain innate charm and intelligence. He could see it now in his smile, the one that suggested a hint of camaraderie but mostly sleepiness.  

“I have every intention of returning to my bed, I assure you. You look like you wouldn't mind the same,” Jett moved to a nearby table as he spoke, pulling out a chair. “Come on, sit a moment and rest. I'll find my book and be on my way and no one will be any wiser, plus you'll get a much deserved break.” Jett's words were like honey, sweet and well meaning, all the while laced with the entrancing aura of his veela blood, of which he was letting go of some of the restraint he usually held it in with. Not much, but just enough to perhaps put Timothy more at ease.

Timothy frowned, balking at the idea of being delayed, and the boy possibly breaking a rule, but it wasn't as if he was being asked to leave. And it was just a book. The boy's posture was open, though the table might be a shield... And he'd really rather not cause a fuss and get on anyone's bad side...

"5 minutes can't hurt." He rationalized as he sat, watching the boy. His feet were free to jitter, and he rested his chin on his steepled fingers, but he didn't usually bother lying with his body, simply keeping note of it. He very highly doubted anyone else in the castle studied body language. Even if the boy could read body language, he'd be busy reading a book. Timothy figured he should probably take note of the book, just in case. If anything happened, he could lie and say he found the boy after he'd begun to read.

((This is great :D I'd forgotten Jett's a manipulator, as well.))

Sure enough, Timothy took a seat in the offered chair and Jett was awarded his small victory. He really did look tired and so Jett let himself feel good about giving Timothy a break; he was probably quiet grateful, in fact. After seeing his fellow student settled at the table, Jett turned back to the high shelves, resuming his search.

He was not a short man, taller than average by some degree, yet still he had to crane his neck in order to read the spines of the volumes lining the wall. A bubbling of excitement was rising in his chest as the tittles became closer and closer to what he was seeking. When he found it, an old, tattered tome, its lettering fading in neglect, Jett grinned from ear to ear, his green eyes alight in wonder. “Ah,” he said, pulling it down from its resting place and holding it in reverence. The ancient symbols on its cover told Jett it was exactly what he had been needing, and promised many nights hunched over decoding its secrets.

Turning back to the table he gingerly set the book down and took a seat next to Timothy, suddenly in an even better mood than before. He was practically glowing with pleasure. “There's just something about old books, isn't there? I'm sure you understand, you must not have become Head Boy without your share of studying.” Jett's compliments always flowed freely and whether they were genuine or just a way of buttering others up was never quite certain to him.

The boy cradled the book as a mother might cradle a newborn, staring reverently as though this single volume could answer all of life's questions.  
"Mmm." Timothy replied neutrally, his eyes on the tome. If the boy wanted to assume Timothy had been named Head Boy for his studiousness, Timothy couldn't see any good reason to correct him. "So what's so important about this book that you had to read it right now?" He asked. It was clearly more than schoolwork, and piquing Timothy's interest as a thing (or person) that may be of use in the future.

He tried to scan the page it was opened to, but though the moonlight was bright by moonlight standards, it wasn't enough to make the small text clear to his tired eyes. He must have nonverbally performed the counter spell to light his wand at some point during the short discussion, for it was dark, and he didn't want to light it again. If he showed too much interest in the book, the boy might get defensive about it. Timothy hated leaving people with a bad impression of him, especially those who might prove good to know in the future.
"Er, sorry, please excuse the lapse of my tired brain, but I simply can't remember your name." Timothy lied, smiling sheepishly and shrugging his shoulders, meeting the boy's gaze for only a fraction of a second before looking down as though ashamed. He hadn't bothered thinking about the boy's name after his face was unfamiliar.

“This book, like all books, is more than it looks. While on the outside it is merely dust and worn parchment, on the inside it is a treasure greater than gold,” Jett pontificated. “In particular this one holds the secrets of many lost languages; ancient runes, if you will. I will use it as a decoder of sorts, to translate a few tomes I have acquired outside of these halls. You see,” Jett leaned closer to Timothy, as if about to divulge a secret. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, eager and alive for once he started talking about his goals and studies he could hardly keep the information to himself. “After I leave this school, I plan to use the things I have learned from these ancient books to discover something great.”

Jett of course did not view his speech as arrogant or even the slightest bit pretentious. In his mind it was just a suitable answer to Timothy's question, one he was more than happy to share. If he had any hope of becoming on good terms with him it would only do to answer honestly and openly. Perhaps Timothy would even be interested, it would be nice to have another intelligent student to talk with. First, though, he must reintroduce himself in order to solidify his identity to Timothy.

“No worries, I'm sure you have many names and faces to keep track of. I'm Jett.” He extended his arm in greeting, to seal their formal meeting with a handshake. While he could mention the fact that they had been in a class together he chose not to; it would accomplish nothing to bring light to Timothy's poor memory. Jett did not doubt that he did have many things to keep track of as Head Boy, but found it hard to believe that Timothy had not recognized him. He tended to be rather unforgettable.

"Sorry, Jett. I should remember you now." Timothy grinned and shook the boy's hand. Ancient Runes weren't of interest to him, but discovering something great? That sounded promising, if it were true. Jett's body language wasn't the least bit defensive or hiding, so he must believe he was onto something, but how could a schoolboy decode something in the school library that more learned wizards hadn't yet discovered long ago? Jett seemed quite avid about his work, but it didn't mean his effort would go anywhere. But it wouldn't do to insult Jett, especially since he seemed to be an intellectual equal, even if his focus was different than Timothy's.
"You think you've found something big, yeah? Something newsworthy?" Timothy asked vaguely, remembering that people could talk for hours about stuff they liked. He ignored the book, the gibberish symbols couldn't tell him anything, focusing on Jett's words and body language, trying to memorize his face. If he could get Jett to say what he'd found, Timothy could decide whether to expend the effort to pursue getting in his good graces, or simply remain an acquaintance.

“News worthy? Perhaps not yet; this is more of a little pet project of mine. Something to keep myself sharp, as I am sure you are familiar with.” With a smile and a wink, Jett continued, speaking openly of his plans, for they were quite interesting and he was certain Timothy would like to hear of them. “My parents and I are summering in Greenland this year. My father has a flair for adventure, you see. I think that is what drew my mother to him; but I digress. This book here will help me decode details a spot amidst the many mountains and glacial peaks where appears a line of runes: these, here, to be exact.” Jett carefully turned the book so it was facing Timothy, open on a page where indeed some runes were scattered. He was smiling in satisfaction, expecting the same from the boy across him. “They matter little, just the ramblings of some old culture, but few eyes have lain upon them since their carving. I intend my father and I's to be the next to view them. It is a practice in research and dedication; I must make sure I have the wherewithal to accomplish what I set out to do when it matters more, after all.”

His speech ended, Jett gazed contentedly at Timothy, his dreamy smile doing little to conceal his smug nature. The idea of him finding something big, something that would indeed be news worthy, was a matter of no doubt in his mind. Not now, no, but later in his life. Jett did not experience the doubt and fear so many others did when contemplating his future. He was confident in all things and pleased to let life bring him all the things he wanted and expected. Just a bit of hard work and unwavering nature would be sure to drop great things into his lap. It was how his whole life had worked so far, so why waste dear emotional stress over worrying that it would not continue as such?

(Sorry for this late late late reply! I got a little distracted.)

((Not to worry, I totally understand.))

Timothy quickly hid the frustration he felt with a look of concentration. So Jett didn't have anything useful. But someone so keen to discover, Timothy would have to keep tabs on him, remember to talk to him periodically.
"That certainly seems quite the intellectual endeavor. I'd be interested to hear what you find. I imagine the greater Wizarding community might, as well. Have you ever written to The Prophet?" Though it greatly hinged on whether Jett could read the old runes, he seemed quite confident, no tells of lying, and appeared to have the knowledge and resources to be able to decode what sounded like a lost language. He certainly expected to be important one day, and an early start to getting his name known couldn't hurt either of them.

“Oh, I haven't wrote to the Prophet directly but my father is on good terms with one of their editors and dines with us occasionally. He tells me whenever I have a valuable article he would not hesitate to publish it. All in due time, I'm sure.”

Jett, comfortable as he was talking about himself, knew that in order to make people feel involved he must turn the conversation over to them. So with all good intent he let the smile on his face broaden as he moved his gaze from the book to Timothy, now giving him his undivided attention. It was always interesting to Jett to see what someone whom he had just met would react to his focused attention; he had found it to be generally a positive reaction, though sometimes he appeared to make others flustered. He liked to think his charm was equal parts his heritage and his attitude towards others and it was now time to see how his new friend responded to it being turned full force on him.

“And what of you, Timothy? As Head Boy I assume you must be in a good spot to continue on your chosen path after leaving this school? What might that be?”

Timothy nodded at Jett's words, his ability to get published in the Prophet when he wished. If Jett's excursion over the summer holidays proved fruitful, he should read about it. He'd have to remember to keep an eye out.

Timothy frowned as Jett's gaze turned away from the book or the middle distance and to him, but covered it with a hand, pretending to be in thought. He had hoped to be on his way continuing his rounds and getting to bed soon, but it would be rude to leave Jett when he still desired conversation; and rudeness was one thing Timothy would hate to have connected to him.

"I'm not entirely sure. I've been thinking a job at the Ministry, I seem to be well equipped to manage others, but I'm not sure which division would suit me best. I'm not even certain of what all the divisions are." He confessed, sleepiness and Jett's gaze making it harder to concentrate on what he was saying while he thought and focused on his and Jett's body language.

“There are so many departments in the Ministry I am sure there is something that would suit you well there. Perhaps even Minister of Magic itself,” Jett laughed, though it was no joke. Working for the Ministry was a very respectable profession and he wished Timothy all the best in his endeavors. It never was too early to start making friendships with the right people.

Jett's eyes trailed off to the high windows, watching as the moonlight shifted behind a cloud and the darkness grew in the silent library. He began to feel the first effects of his lack of sleep; his eye lids were growing heavy and the corners of his mouth found it difficult to remain upturned. He still needed to accomplish a few things back in his room this evening and he really should get to it, as pleasant as it was chatting here with Timothy.

“Ah, but it is getting late now isn't it? I would hate to keep you from your duties any longer.” Gracefully, Jett stood from his chair and gathered up his book, holding it reverently under his arm. With his free hand he motioned to the door, “After you.”

"Thanks." Timothy stood, half-faking a yawn. "Just don't tell anyone I let you continue to work in the Restricted Section, alright? Good luck with that, er, translation." He raised a hand in farewell and padded out of the library.