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Disoriented and still trying to gather her bearings, Laura de Winter managed to regain enough of her sense of self as she left the Sorting room without getting zapped by any cattle-prod. She's not particularly worried about the marriage; she got out of her first one without much trouble, after all.

Still, being told that she was bound by magic to some new spouse? That was hurting her head a little, and she was still trying to sort through the hierachy of Hogwarts. Not knowing if this were a usual occurence, Laura makes up her mind to find out more about the history of the place as she enters her new room.

The Hat had got one thing right; she very much prefers to be inside.

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Lestat sneered at the house elves, some of whom were already busily collecting his things for transport. He assumed that this must be some kind of joke, of course. Maybe the school had set up a kind of event for new students, and this was their way of getting his attention. All the same, he did not appreciate his stuff being touched.

"You things are quite lucky I do not presume you to be tasty, as you are just begging to have me show you just how sharp my teeth can be."

When a frightened, but determined house elf neared with a cattle prod, Lestat waved his hand dismissively, scoffing.

"Oh I'm coming, I am not an animal and I will not be herded along."

With that, he made his way to his - hopefully - temporary new home. Assuming that it was his now, for the duration of this little joke, he made no attempt to knock, but instead entered straightaway, flanked by house elves loaded down with his belongings.

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Laura has a knack for being in the most flattering position possible when people see her for the first time. Having taken down her hair and still having it look fabulous, she is gazing out of the window at the curious farm below.

Her concentration is interrupted by some man barging in through the door. Laura does not gasp, or tut disapprovingly; she only half-turns from the window, eyebrows raised a little.

'And I suppose you're the spouse the Hat indicated?'

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"I suppose I must be, assuming I did not get the wrong room by mistake."

The statement was full of his idea that he, of course, did not make mistakes.

"I do not know if you have been here longer than I, as I hve not seen you here before, but I was hoping someone would shed a little light on this precocious sham of a prank."

He glanced in her direction, straightening his shirt sleeve and pulling it out from under his jacket. Whatever the laugh may be, he could definitely have ended up in worse company.

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Their names spell out how perfect they are for each other. No, seriously. L_d_. You think I'm making up starcrossed love, aren't you?

'I was Sorted into Slytherin,' Laura announces, lip curling a fraction, 'And immediately hustled out here. I take it, by your reaction, that this is not the usual mode of business here?'

She sits neatly on the double bed, assessing him. At least he was easy on the eye. Laura de Winter has had to sit through innumerable worse experiences, such as losing her chance to wreak havoc through control of Time.

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"Well, it seems if we ever get out of here, we shall still see eachother from time to time, since we are in the same House."

He took a seat in a comfortable-looking chair, looking around at his new surroundings before speaking again.

"No, this is not usual at all, at least not to my knowledge. The Sorting went by and I made my way to my House, only to be uprooted and brought here. Be careful with that!"

His last sentence was directed to a pair of house elves clumsily trying to arrange his coffin in one corner of the room. Really, some things were just too valuable to be left in the care of others.

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Laura's gaze alights on the coffin, and switches to him quickly.

Well. She supposes the bed will be all to herself, then.

'Shall we see much of each other in this...accomodation?' she asks in her cut-glass voice, a little uncomfortable with how quickly life apparently changed here. Laura values the routine she's normally in. Perfectly happy to let the House-elves fly about the room trying to make her comfortable, she dismisses one with an order for a drink.

'I only ask because, well.' She indicates the coffin. 'Our sleeping patterns might differ.'

But to be fair, she projects that image that she never sleeps, eats, or goes to the toilet. Laura's like that.

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"If you do not settle down for sleep before sunset my dear, and your company is desirable and not taxing, then we shall have a few hours a day to spend getting to know eachother better."

His pale skin seemed to have its own glow in the strange light provided in their quarters, his tone always as smooth as silk. His eyes shifted to the door. Still no one had jumped out from behind a curtain, or run in yelling "Surprise!". The game was going on much longer than he had expected.

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This--now this is the sort of flowery aristocratic jargon Laura knows very well. Her reply does not come too quickly, because she plays by the rules--above the surface.

'So you don't call me your 'dear' when we chat,' the lady says, smirking in a pleasant way, 'My name is Laura de Winter. And yours?'

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Lestat smiled back at her, eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief hidden just barely beneath the surface.

"My dear Miss Laura, my name is Lestat de Lioncourt, and if the letter I received is any indication, it is a last name that you will be sharing with me from now on. Unless, of course, they offer the opportunity to keep your own, though where is the love in that kind of marriage?"

His voice was dripping with the irony of the situation, but not by any means hostile. Sarcasm was just his most favored form of conversation.

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Laura's own eyes never sparkle, because she's that close to Hell she's practically dead inside.

'If you do not object, Mr. de Lioncourt, I will retain my last name. And it is Mrs; I am afraid I am a widow.'

(That's the official story. He disappeared, in any case.)

Laura does not mean to be cruel (unusually). But she is damned if anyone will wrench that name away from her.

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"A widow, you say? Well, I do hope you were already out of mourning, or such a thing as this could be quite the shock to your system."

He stood, busying himself by prodding the unfamiliar surroundings, finding what this place had to offer.

"I suppose I mispoke by calling you Miss anyway, since we are supposedly not only married, but magically so. I wonder how you came to be in a place such as this?"

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'I was out of mourning a very long time ago, sir,' she parries quickly. 'And while married by magic, I arrived by science--at least, I am fairly sure of that.'

Laura does not stand yet, assessing his gait as he lopes about the room, trying to discover if he can be friend, foe, or just polite.

'And you? How did you find Hogwarts?' Lip curl once more.

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"I think, dear Laura, that Hogwarts found me. Certainly I made no attempt of my own to get here."

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the door with a thoughtful expression. He then half-turned towards her, a smile on his face just wide enough to show off one very sharp canine.

"It will be getting late soon, and I must venture out. I have dinner plans, you know."

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Languidly, Laura takes the red wine that has appeared, proferred by a House-elf, and smiles.

'I only ask that you don't bring whoever the lucky fellow is to bleed all over the floor,' she says lightly. 'I find it hard enough to sleep as it is in new places.'

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Virginia couldn't believe it, was it fucking serious? Fucking hell! Marching into the room, she spotted the smarmy bastard placed there, staring at her.

"Are you for fucking pissing real? I thought we had a pissing understanding when it came to fucking marriage?! What do you expect? For us to have fucking sombrero sex, giving birth to miniature fucking turbans pop out of us? I like the female homo-cunting-sapiens!"

Oh, she was pissed.

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Nonplussed, the Hat hovered silently for a moment.

Then it levitated over to her a tiara, a truly grand diamond tiara, whose crest spelled #1 in twinkling garnets.

"That's for you," it said, a little sadly.

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Virginia noticed the tone that the Hat was using, and immediately felt bad about ranting and raving at him. Reaching out and grabbing the tiara, she looked at it in her hands.

"I appreciate the gesture, I, I really do, but why? Why do you like me? I'm shit, you don't wanna be with me"

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The Hat tried to explain.

"I like your attitude! You've got pizzazz! You like cussing and setting things on fire! I can't think of a more fitting queen for El Mundo del Sombrero!"

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Virginia looked at him, sceptically,

"And you promise fun?"

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"As much fun as we can make!" the Hat promised earnestly. "I even have a boat ride!"

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"Ok, count me in then you big softy, I'll be your fucking queen."

Virginia had to admit to herself, she was looking forward to the times ahead. At least this way, she wouldn't get her heart broken, but knowing her, she'd still be capable of it.

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The Hat was delighted its wooing had succeeded! You couldn't go wrong with bling!

"Put on the tiara and let's get ready to rumble!" By which it meant not anything sexual -- the Hat wasn't sure how it would go about intimate contact with a non-Hat, and its carnal desires were mainly directed toward Fraser's and Turnbull's Stetsons, with a lingering yen for Professor Grant's hat -- but the planning of mischievous deeds.

"There are fifty-one tents in this village, plus our House. Only one of the tents is unoccupied and that is totally not intended for shenanigans. That means fifty households all under our sway, Mrs. Hat. What are we going to do with them? Should we make them all play waterproof Jenga? Force them on a jolly parade for our amusement? Declare Fridays to be crossdressing day?"

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Virginia sat next to the hat. Her face full of thought. What would be the most annoying thing to be part of, but utterly amusing to see? Suddenly, she smirked, and burst out laughing,

"Well how about we create a law. All those in odd tents have to dance when communicating with each other." Thinking this wasn't enough, something was missing.

"And! And! Speak in rhyme! And if they fail, we throw shit at them! Hot stinking horse crapping shit!"

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The Hat found this a positively enchanting idea. "What about the boat ride? We should incorporate the boat ride somehow!"

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"A boat ride? Hmm, the boats could be made from frozen shit, and the sea a vast mass of excrete? Y'know, get them all rallied up that it's going to be a fucking amazing thing, but it just turns out to be a shit-fest. Those that really annoy us, well, we tip them out. Or chain 'em up like in Disney world. Get 'em to sing it's a small pissing world over and over."

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The Sorting Hat was a little taken aback. "But ... but the boat ride is beautiful! It has impeccably chlorinated water and it has boats shaped like many different animals! I ... I like my boat ride!"

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"Oh! Okay, I'm, I'm sorry. I stepped too pissing far didn't I. Well how about all those that are good, and that follow the rules that we set out, and the ones that we like, they get to go on the boat ride?"

Virginia was backtracking as fast as she could, trying to get herself out of the, well, shit that she had got herself into.

"That way, they'll appreciate it more. Is that ok? Does that make you happy?"

Virginia was....growing fond of the unexpectedness of the hat. Not in a craz ymonkey sex fond way, more of a friendly fond way.

She gingerly reached out to stroke the Hat, unknowing whether or not the Hat would mind being touched.

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The Hat loved being touched! It snuggled up like a really bristly opossum covered in rhinestones.

"That would make me very happy! But I think everyone should also be punished with the boat ride."

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"So no-one gets rewarded? That's fair. Well, it is to us."

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