The next segment.
Nov. 26th, 2005 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynThere's one more to be written after this.
Done. Fucking hell, he was done. There was one more class left today, yeah, but he’d made it through the last damn Gryffindor class and he hadn’t bitten anyone. Between the Weasley kid (who hadn’t recognized him so far as he could tell) and that blasted Granger, he was about ready to pop the kneecaps off the next brat he saw. If she’d asked one more sodding question. . .
Never mind. No time for that. He’d deal with that later. Right now he had a schedule to stick to. If he took the long corridor right now and avoided any of the ghosts who wanted to make conversation, he could make it to his rooms, get in a decent smoke, and be back before the sixth-year Slytherins set foot in the classroom.
The mere prospect of tobacco was immensely cheering. He allowed himself a moment to straighten his robes-
“Ah, John! There you are,” exclaimed an all-too-familiar voice. Constantine’s shoulders sagged.
“Hallo, Dumbledore.” Bugger off. Sod the buggering hell off-
The Headmaster smiled, a grossly beatific expression. John wanted nothing more than to wipe that sunny look from the man’s face with a fistful of steel wool. “I do hope your first day as an official teacher hasn’t treated you too poorly?”
“I’ve had better days.”
Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. John knew there was a laugh behind that look. “Ah, well. I suppose the experience takes something out of a man at first-“
You’re standing between me and my fags, Dumbledore. Give me one good reason not to set you on fucking fire.
Dumbledore must’ve caught some of that in his face, surely. John was making no effort to hide it. Nevertheless, the man continued. “The talk is already out amongst the students, it so happens. Apparently, you were released from Azkaban Prison for the span of a year solely for the purpose of assuming your current position. Fascinating, isn’t it? And quite at odds with the contention among several of the other students, namely, that you are in fact the long-lost cousin of one of the current instructors, hired almost entirely on his or her recommendation solely for the purpose of-“
Fire was entirely too good for him. Possibly something involving honey and ants. Possessed ants.
“None of which, of course, is particularly relevant- but it did seem the sort of thing that might interest you to know,” Dumbledore finished.
And that seemed to be that. Nevertheless, John forced himself to assume some measure of civility. There was, after all, half a smoke waiting on the other side of it if he managed not to feed the man his own beard. “That so?” he inquired, fingers curling and uncurling behind his back. “You’d think the kids these days’d have a better imagination than that.”
“One does find the current generation a bit lacking in some areas,” Dumbledore agreed gravely. “I trust you’ll find some way to make up for that lack.”
“Oh, believe me,” said Constantine, “I’ve got plenty of possibilities in mind for them.”
“Splendid.” Dumbledore beamed again, his palms coming together in front of him as his fingers interlaced. “Even more so, given that it’s reminded me of my original purpose in coming here.”
Oh, hell, there was more? John’s fingers closed, tightened. “Izzat so?”
“It is indeed.” With a flourish, Dumbledore produced a roll of parchment from some pocket or other of his robes. This, he presented to Constantine, who unrolled it- and stared.
“What the fu-“
“Students, Mr. Constantine,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, his voice raised just a fraction. “I suggest you avoid that upcoming consonant.”
Fuck the ants. Broken glass, a toilet plunger, and Josh Wright after that last hour with Isabel.
“Dumbledore,” John said when he could manage coherence, “would you mind explaining this?”
"I should think it would be self-explanatory, John. It occurred to me that there might be some difference in standards between the schools of your world and this one, so I have taken it upon myself to avoid any unpleasantness that may arise as a result of those differences."
"By compiling a list of words I'm not allowed to say?? What the f- what the hell d'you-"
"You'll find, I think, that most of the items there are entirely self-explanatory-"
"'Bugger'? You've got to be joking! The kids say that in front of me!"
"This, alas, is so- but you do have an example to set in your position. Therefore, I fear you must be held to a higher standard."
"Is this something you do to everyone who works here, or am I just special somehow?" John snapped.
"Oh, it's just you," Dumbledore said with entirely too much good cheer to be natural. "The others scarcely require such guidance, having long ago internalized the difference between acceptable and unacceptable. I suppose I ought to have brought this to you earlier, but you seemed to be rather wrapped up in your work-"
John ran his finger down the list, ignoring the rest of what Dumbledore said. "Do I at least get 'arse'?" he muttered.
"I would prefer that you did not, but given the nature of political discussion amongst the professors I fear it can scarcely be avoided. 'Arse' it is, as well as 'sod', although that's to be kept to sixth years or older. And be assured that we do have ways of enforcing this clause other than the termination of your contract."
Fucking hell, thought John. "Arse," he said instead.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I do believe you're getting the hang of it. Well done, John, well done. I shan't keep you from your work any further, then; best of luck with your last class of the day, hmm?"
With that, he swept off. Constantine crumpled the list in one white-knuckled fist, turning towards the corridor back to his quarters... and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
The students were already here.
Broken glass, Josh Wright, and possessed fire ants. And throw Maggie Thatcher into the deal. He turned on one heel and strode into the classroom before they could catch sight of him themselves.
Done. Fucking hell, he was done. There was one more class left today, yeah, but he’d made it through the last damn Gryffindor class and he hadn’t bitten anyone. Between the Weasley kid (who hadn’t recognized him so far as he could tell) and that blasted Granger, he was about ready to pop the kneecaps off the next brat he saw. If she’d asked one more sodding question. . .
Never mind. No time for that. He’d deal with that later. Right now he had a schedule to stick to. If he took the long corridor right now and avoided any of the ghosts who wanted to make conversation, he could make it to his rooms, get in a decent smoke, and be back before the sixth-year Slytherins set foot in the classroom.
The mere prospect of tobacco was immensely cheering. He allowed himself a moment to straighten his robes-
“Ah, John! There you are,” exclaimed an all-too-familiar voice. Constantine’s shoulders sagged.
“Hallo, Dumbledore.” Bugger off. Sod the buggering hell off-
The Headmaster smiled, a grossly beatific expression. John wanted nothing more than to wipe that sunny look from the man’s face with a fistful of steel wool. “I do hope your first day as an official teacher hasn’t treated you too poorly?”
“I’ve had better days.”
Dumbledore’s mouth twitched. John knew there was a laugh behind that look. “Ah, well. I suppose the experience takes something out of a man at first-“
You’re standing between me and my fags, Dumbledore. Give me one good reason not to set you on fucking fire.
Dumbledore must’ve caught some of that in his face, surely. John was making no effort to hide it. Nevertheless, the man continued. “The talk is already out amongst the students, it so happens. Apparently, you were released from Azkaban Prison for the span of a year solely for the purpose of assuming your current position. Fascinating, isn’t it? And quite at odds with the contention among several of the other students, namely, that you are in fact the long-lost cousin of one of the current instructors, hired almost entirely on his or her recommendation solely for the purpose of-“
Fire was entirely too good for him. Possibly something involving honey and ants. Possessed ants.
“None of which, of course, is particularly relevant- but it did seem the sort of thing that might interest you to know,” Dumbledore finished.
And that seemed to be that. Nevertheless, John forced himself to assume some measure of civility. There was, after all, half a smoke waiting on the other side of it if he managed not to feed the man his own beard. “That so?” he inquired, fingers curling and uncurling behind his back. “You’d think the kids these days’d have a better imagination than that.”
“One does find the current generation a bit lacking in some areas,” Dumbledore agreed gravely. “I trust you’ll find some way to make up for that lack.”
“Oh, believe me,” said Constantine, “I’ve got plenty of possibilities in mind for them.”
“Splendid.” Dumbledore beamed again, his palms coming together in front of him as his fingers interlaced. “Even more so, given that it’s reminded me of my original purpose in coming here.”
Oh, hell, there was more? John’s fingers closed, tightened. “Izzat so?”
“It is indeed.” With a flourish, Dumbledore produced a roll of parchment from some pocket or other of his robes. This, he presented to Constantine, who unrolled it- and stared.
“What the fu-“
“Students, Mr. Constantine,” said Dumbledore pleasantly, his voice raised just a fraction. “I suggest you avoid that upcoming consonant.”
Fuck the ants. Broken glass, a toilet plunger, and Josh Wright after that last hour with Isabel.
“Dumbledore,” John said when he could manage coherence, “would you mind explaining this?”
"I should think it would be self-explanatory, John. It occurred to me that there might be some difference in standards between the schools of your world and this one, so I have taken it upon myself to avoid any unpleasantness that may arise as a result of those differences."
"By compiling a list of words I'm not allowed to say?? What the f- what the hell d'you-"
"You'll find, I think, that most of the items there are entirely self-explanatory-"
"'Bugger'? You've got to be joking! The kids say that in front of me!"
"This, alas, is so- but you do have an example to set in your position. Therefore, I fear you must be held to a higher standard."
"Is this something you do to everyone who works here, or am I just special somehow?" John snapped.
"Oh, it's just you," Dumbledore said with entirely too much good cheer to be natural. "The others scarcely require such guidance, having long ago internalized the difference between acceptable and unacceptable. I suppose I ought to have brought this to you earlier, but you seemed to be rather wrapped up in your work-"
John ran his finger down the list, ignoring the rest of what Dumbledore said. "Do I at least get 'arse'?" he muttered.
"I would prefer that you did not, but given the nature of political discussion amongst the professors I fear it can scarcely be avoided. 'Arse' it is, as well as 'sod', although that's to be kept to sixth years or older. And be assured that we do have ways of enforcing this clause other than the termination of your contract."
Fucking hell, thought John. "Arse," he said instead.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I do believe you're getting the hang of it. Well done, John, well done. I shan't keep you from your work any further, then; best of luck with your last class of the day, hmm?"
With that, he swept off. Constantine crumpled the list in one white-knuckled fist, turning towards the corridor back to his quarters... and his shoulders sagged in defeat.
The students were already here.
Broken glass, Josh Wright, and possessed fire ants. And throw Maggie Thatcher into the deal. He turned on one heel and strode into the classroom before they could catch sight of him themselves.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 07:44 pm (UTC)poor bas-poor bugg-poor guy.no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 08:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 08:20 pm (UTC)Looking forward to the whole chapter!
no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 03:41 am (UTC)Poor, poor Con-Job. Hang on while I write him a 'scrip for Prevacid. He's bound to get a bleeding ulcer at this rate.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 04:00 am (UTC)Maybe he'll catch a clue and watch how Snape is the nastiest teacher at school without lapsing into gutter talk; it is much more effective to cut the students down with quick, clean, easily understood words than with a lot of swearing, I think.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 04:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-27 04:40 am (UTC)Bwahaha! Constantine's inner monologue is priceless. Can't wait for the entire chapter :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-29 03:38 pm (UTC)Dag, yo.