Open RP: Hogwarts Family Values, with the Sorting Hat

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

Thanks to Hogwarts magic and a little help from the infamous house-elf gossip network, the Hat kept abreast of the entertaining chaotic general goings-on throughout its kingdom school. When it heard that groundskeeper Dean Winchester had put a bun in student Stephanie Brown's oven, it wasn't the whole faculty-student taboo that put a corresponding bee in the Hat's bonnet. (A hat in a bonnet? Oooh, avant-garde!) No, it was the total lack of regard for family values! It was one thing for faculty to engage in hanky-panky, or even Jenga, with students. That was fine. Everyone did it. But impregnation without benefit of ceremony? What would Dr. Phil say? What would Dr. Laura say?

(The Hat didn't use its wizarding wireless to listen to WART. It preferred Muggle talk radio. We're not talking NPR.)

So the Hat had taken matters into its own capable straps. Champion of family values that it was, it decided that if Dean wasn't going to make an honest woman out of Steph, then the Hat would make an honest woman out of Dean! Or, no, wait. An honest ... something. Anyway. They were going to get married, whether they liked it or not! And their offspring would be born into legal wedlock, thank you very much! Legal and binding under the Ministry of Magic's standards!

The unsuspecting bride had been summoned to the Great Hall under the pretext of a detention to serve. The equally unsuspecting groom had been summoned to the Great Hall under the pretext of groundskeeping duties to perform. And two mighty wedding planners had been recruited to make this a day they'd always remember and cherish ... well, at least, a day they'd always remember ...



Kelly Kapoor was busy with some Very Important business. The Sorting Hat had mentioned that this celebration was, in fact, a wedding. Her expert services had been enlisted for said wedding. And if you knew Kelly, you knew that she thought weddings were just about the best thing ever.

With one exception. Babies. Or, to be more eloquent, baaaaaabies.

Thus, the whole 'wedding' thing was really just a formality. They were here to celebrate the cuteness of children, and the great hall was decorated accordingly. The tables were covered in pink and blue tabledressings, and stuffed animals of every imaginable sort served as centerpieces. As discussed with her brain trust of one, the party favors were wrapped in ruffled-cloth diapers, held together with 'totally adorable' ducky pins.

Kelly was currently busy overseeing the house elves in their efforts to carry a giant wedding cake to the teacher's dinner table, currently commandeered for buffet-style purposes. Instead of a bride and groom, the cake was topped with a wax visage of a smiling infant. Even the house elves had after various thinly-veiled threats from the decoratorzilla gotten into the spirit. They were walking around in giant diapers, wearing pink or blue bonnet & bootie sets, depending on said elf's gender.

All in all, it was pretty much the most awesome decorating job ever.

As for Kelly's aforementioned brain trust of one, the fabulous Hedwig Robinson -- well, Hedwig had never actually planned a wedding before. She needed the practice, since she would be helping with the wedding of her darling adopted son Michael Scott. Already high-strung, she felt that much more pressure because this wedding could be viewed as practically a rehearsal for Michael's. This was Hedwig's baptism by fire! She stalked around the hall (in white leather high-heeled boots, no less) fretting over the proper incantations. Since the Hat had specified this was a surprise wedding, she wanted to make sure her wandwork was up to par when it came to whipping the carefully chosen wedding garb onto the bride and groom. One wrong move and all that gorgeous sparkly polyester-blend fabric would be history! So she had commandeered a couple of diapered elves, who were being rapidly unswaddled and swaddled again with sharp flicks of Hedwig's wand. Muttered German obscenities peppered Hedwig's incantations.


When the clock struck the appointed hour, all was ready. The Hat hovered in gleeful anticipation, waiting for the victims happy couple to appear!

Comments

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Nothing of Dean's has rubbed anywhere on or near my person. Or ever will." Steph looked at the offered hand, and then back up at Sam. She really wasn't in a 'shake hands with the family' kind of mood. "Stephanie. And please don't tell me you pull that 'No, really, it was like this when I woke up' garbage."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

"Right," Sam said slowly and with obvious skepticism. "Because the non-rubbing of bodies usually results in babies and shotgun weddings." Also, the mere idea that Dean would know a girl and not try to get them into bed (or a handy bathroom stall, or the backseat of a car, or a nearby closet...)? All kinds of 'does not compute'. And, granted, Steph was a bit younger than Dean's usual fare, but that didn't change the fact she was attractive, breathing, and...nope, that was pretty much all the criteria that mattered to the elder Winchester.

Pushing his bangs back, sheepishly, Sam just looked confused. Actually, to be honest, it really was just like that when he woke up. Granted, 'like that' meaning 'in his eyes and shaggy', but still. Not only was he a hunter and usually cleaning up in some grimy hotel bathroom, if he was lucky, but Sam also was the proud owner of a thousand and one identical style, long-sleeved, button-up, checkered shirts. A fashion plate he was not. Hair-gel was a bit beyond him. For variety, Sam liked to toss in a random t-shirt with an odd saying. "Anyway, look, I'm sorry if my brother got you into..." He paused, then laughed out of the sheer awkwardness of the moment, shifting side to side. "Well, whatever it was, I'm sorry. And if you need anything, just...let me know, okay?"

Seriously, hair gel? ...Wait, did Dean use hair gel? Oh, man, Sam was so ribbing his brother on that one. After, of course, he teased him for the rest of his life about getting married in a shiny suit.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Okay, this was officially not funny. Giving Dean a heart attack was one thing, but having everyone else think she was in a 'family way'? Brought up very unpleasant memories.

Who would have thought faking a pregnancy for the lulz could come back to haunt you?

Sam's niceness only served to exacerbate Steph's frustration. "I. am. not. pregnant," she said through clenched teeth. "Look, I'll prove it-" glancing around, she grabbed a drink from one of the many diapered houselves acting as caterers, downing the thing in one gulp.

ACK. Burning! So much burning! "...see?" She coughed, hiccupped, and made a Face.

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

Gah! Reaching out to grab the glass, Sam was too slow and watched in horror as Stephanie downed it. "I...don't think that was punch," he said, slightly frantic. "And that's not good for the baby! Um, look, if you're thirsty, I'll get you something else!"

Helpfully snatching up the nearest glass of pumpkin juice, he offered it to her with a nervously unsure smile. Pregnant new sister-in-law? Funny in theory, kind of terrifying in person.

Where the hell was Dean?

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph threw her hands up in the air. "I keep telling you people! There is no baby! Do I look like I'd sleep with Hairgel?" She poked Sam in the chest, righteously! "The answer is no! I don't know what the Hat is smoking, but I've got standards! And a boyfriend!"

...oh, crap. She was going to have to explain all this to said boyfriend. She'd only just gotten used to saying the 'b' word again in conversation, and now she was gonna get dumped!

To further reiterate her 'Nien mit baby' Point, she ignored the Pumpkin Juice (which was seriously gross, anyway), and downed another Drink. "See? See the no hesitation in regards to alcohol? Not pregnant!"

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

For the love of God! "Well, if you aren't pregnant," Sam sputtered, the six foot something hulk of a guy completely cowed by the blonde girl, "then why the hell did you get married?"

Legitimate query!

Grimacing, Sam reached out to gently lay a hand on Stephanie's shoulder. "Okay! Okay! I believe you! Just...don't drink any more, all right?" In way over his head, Sam's eyes darted around the room looking for...someone. Anyone. "Um, look, I don't know what's going on but...I think you just married my brother." Another grimace. "Sorry."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" she yelled. "I was sneak-attacked! I don't even know if that's legally binding!" Except she had the sinking suspicion that it was.

"All right." Hah! Showed him. Except, uck. Her stomach was all burn-y. Not fun!

More fun than being married to Dean, though. She groaned, and buried her face in her ring-pop laden hand. "That's the worst thing that could happen to anyone, ever. He's a hobag, and his hut smells."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

Sam chuckled a little, kind of helplessly, and looked around. "Here," he said, gently steering Stephanie towards a chair. He took a seat opposite, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees and a concerned, sympathetic look creasing his brow.

"He's not a..." Sam really did try to come to Dean's defense. He did. But the laughter kind of made it hard to take him seriously. "His hut does smell." Dude, it did. Like ass. Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam tried to think of something to say.

"I'm sure we can figure...something out. And you can probably take him, if necessary. So that's a plus." He tried for a smile. "It's not as bad as it sounds." At least she wasn't really pregnant.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"I know! And the Hat moved all my stuff there. My stuff! It's gonna get Dean cooties." Hey, she'd known Dean since he was eight. The boy was clearly still suffering from a case of cooties. "My things are going to smell, and get all cootie-fied." Kevlar did not react well to cooties.

Oh, shit. The Hat had moved all her stuff. Which would include bat!gear. "Hey, is Dean a snoop? Is he likely to go through my underwear drawer?" Didn't you know, everyone kept batarangs in their underwear drawer?

"I could so take him," she gave a firm nod. "If he messes around in with my stuff, I will kick him. Hard. Again."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

Now Sam was just out-and-out laughing. Grinning wide, like his face might crack, actually having to wipe tears from his eyes. It'd been months since he'd laughed this hard. Granted, some of it was just incredulous stress being released in the least violent-way possible, but still. Felt nice.

"Um," scratching his head sheepishly, Sam shrugged. "It depends. Do you store your weapons in there? Because he probably would find those." Hey, Sam kept his knives in with his socks. Who knew how girls did things?

...And yes, it was slightly messed up that Sam just assumed everyone carried around weapons and had them stashed at strategic points around the room. Thanks a lot, dad.

"Again?"

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"If you keep laughing at me, I am going to kick you!" Steph flailed her arms about. This was a serious situation!

Steph's eyes briefly widened. How could he- time for some ninja!evasion skills! "...what makes you think I have weapons?" she said quickly. Answering a question with a question. Smooth.

"Well, he pulled a gun on me! I had to kick him in the shins. To be fair," she held out her arms, in a placating gesture made slightly comical by the fact that the alcohol was starting hit her motor skills, "-there was a 30-foot-duck involved."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry in the least. Biting back a grin, Sam ducked his head, glancing back up at her.

At her question Sam mentally kicked himself, wincing. Oh, great, Winchester. Way to let your scary, psycho upbringing out. "Um, no reason! I just... I mean, it's not like I think everyone has weapons in...their...underwear drawer." Clearing his throat, Sam looked around for a distraction.

Which was provided by a thirty-foot-duck. Eyes going wide, Sam then barked out a laugh, sitting back in his chair. "So... He pulls a gun on you. And you kick him?" Rubbing his chin, Sam shook his head. "God, you guys are perfect for each other. You're like a female him."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Good! Because I don't keep them in mine. That would be...crazy. Totally crazy. Underwear drawers are for underwear! Not smoke capsules!" CRAAAP! "...for example."

This was what happened when you refrained from drinking, on principle.

"That's what you do when someone pulls a gun on you!" It was only natural! Not at all a bat!thing. "Hey!" Voice rising several octaves, Steph poked Sam squarely in the chest. Take that! "Them's fighting words! I am not a stupid, smelly, eyebrow tweezing loser who runs out on his unwilling bride like a stupid, smell, eyebrow tweezing loser."

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

"Smoke capsules?" Sam's face brightened like a five-year-old who'd just heard mention of a new toy. "Cool." Oh, wait. "Not that, like, I'd have any need for smoke capsules. Ever." Nice one.

Okay, so he was failing slightly at the whole 'secret identity' thing. He could recover! Bounce back!

"Or you...run," he laughed. "Or stop. Or...pull out your own gun. Have to say, kicking isn't a reaction I've seen a lot." Crap! "Not that, you know, I pull guns out to see reactions. At all. I mean, in the movies. And...TV." Shifty eyes.

As Steph poked him in the chest, Sam bit back a squeak of surprise. A manly yelp, actually, but who was keeping track? "Okay, okay," he held up his hands in surrender. "You're nothing like him and his...tweezed eyebrows." His own brows twitching in repressed amusement, Sam grinned at her. "But you have his temper. You guys can't live together - you'll kill each other."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," she said, her own eyes lighting up. Smoke Capsules were the best! "They're great for- stuff. That's what I hear. From people." She could blame this on the tipsy factor, but really, Steph could be disturbingly non-ninja, when it came to the secret identity thing.

"But you can't just run. That doesn't make any sense. Then the attacker still has the gun. He can chase you down! He can attack civ-other people. Who are around." Blink, blink. "This is all in theory."

"Damn straight." She gave a curt nod, acknowledging her non-Deanness. She wasn't even going to comment on the temper thing. There was no way to pretend that she didn't have one, and that it hadn't gotten her into a heck of a lot of trouble.

"Oh, I am not living with Dean. That is a No. I'll just make the owls move my stuff back. Heck, I'll do it myself! That's what charmed back packs are for!"

[done-hunting.livejournal.com]

Man, smoke capsules would be so freaking awesome. Maybe they could even have them disperse Holy Water somehow... Roll them in, have them explode, watch the demons scatter. How cool would that be? "Do you know, from people, where you could get smoke capsules?" Pause. "In theory?"

Rolling his eyes at the gun thing, Sam took up a shooting stance. "Okay, look. Someone pulls a gun at you, right. They're aiming for head or chest, more than likely. So, you drop," he demonstrated a quick fall, "and roll to the side and take off. You can't fight if you're dead! So you have to get away and then disarm him. Or shoot him yourself." He scrambled back up into his chair. "So I see. On movies." And had not at all been taught by his father shortly after he could walk. "But that's not even getting into disarming techniques. That I saw on TV."

Smirking, Sam tipped his chair back. "I don't blame you. I tried to live with him after he got his hut, because," the demon, "um, someone from back home showed up and we didn't really want to, you know, be around him. Anyway, I lasted a week before the food on the bed and the dirty socks and the smell drove me out. I grew up with the guy, I spent most of my life in tiny motel rooms with him and my dad. Trust me - he's no prince to live with."

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph looked from side to side. "I might. In theory. There are some shops in London...Hypothetical shops," she finished lamely.

No, no, no! He was getting it all wrong. Sighing, Steph got up and stood in front of an imaginary assailant. "First of all, if you're rolled up into a ball, that's just a bigger target. It's best to flip away." She did a quick handspring. "And then when you're flipping away, you can just kick the gun-" still on one hand, she jabbed at the air with her foot "-out of the perpetrator’s hand. Duh!"

Finally getting back on her feet, Steph ambled in a not-so-straight line to the her seat, clutching the sides of her chair. Oh, man. Handsprings and drinks did not mix! "Nin-" Woah. She held a hand over her mouth, and put up a finger in a 'one second' motion. "Ninja movies. I watch a lot of ninja movies."

She took a deep breath. Okay. Less stomach-spinning action going on. "Someone from home? That's Cataracts, right? Creepy, looks like a janitor?" She gave Dean a supportive pat on the knee. "He sucks."