|
|
With Grief Comes Honesty
Author: Rylee
Date: 05-26-12 18:18
Noon had come and gone and Rylee found herself curled up in a chair in the Common Commons after lunch. At the moment, she was picking and plucking at a blueberry muffin that looked like the victim of some wild animal given the amount of crumbs that littered the plate it sat on, and the fact that the muffin was in chunks of various sizes and not actually being eaten.
There was a parchment unfolded, resting in her lap while she massacred the muffin, tear stained and looking as though it had been read countless times even though she'd only gotten the letter over breakfast this morning. If only she'd thought to open it this morning, she would have been able to be excused from classes while she went to speak to her head of house or Professor Dumbledore or even Professor McGonagall to let them know what was going on.
As it was, she was currently viciously tearing into the muffin instead of going to speak to someone. She honestly was expecting the news that had come this morning, but that didn't prepare her for it when it finally arrived. She flicked her gaze upward as others began filtering into the commons and didn't make any attempt to hide the fact that she'd been crying or destroying her muffin. She didn't have very many friends if any at all, and most thought that the friends she did have had been bought with expensive trinkets or new clothes or something along those lines.
She curled herself into a ball in the chair and turned her attention to the letter once more, sighing as she figured she would eventually have to go talk to someone and get details taken care of because of it, but those that thought ill of her would no doubt think she was faking it just to have some time off campus - not that she cared. She was who she was, they could like her or they could hate her and it wouldn't matter to her. Fingers left the parchment and toyed with the dark strands hiding her face from the rest of the commons as she remained curled in her chair out of the direct line of sight.
"Are you alright?"
The soft voice was almost unheard as a group of girls laughed and giggled over the newest edition of TeenWitch and the cute guys within its pages - they were third or fourth years if Rylee had to guess. She turned her attention to the person that had spoken to her, sighing as it was Gideon, another who had not bothered to get to know her before passing judgement.
"I'm fine Gideon, besides you said yourself not too long ago that you wanted little to do with me. I'll deal like I always do, because people take one look at me and think I'm a shallow bitch rather than take the time to get to know me."
Gideon blinked and sighed, turning and walking away. Rylee watched him go and simply curled herself into the cushions a bit more and started sobbing again. In her renewed flood of tears she hadn't heard him return, and didn't know he had come back until she felt the warmth of a mug of tea being pressed into her hands.
"Drink it, it will help," he said, moving her over a bit so that she could curl against him instead of burying herself into the cushions.
She leaned against him and sipped the tea, attempting to quiet the still hiccuping sobs that threatened to slosh the tea over the sides of the cup and into her lap.
"Now, what happened that has you in tears Rylee?" He asked softly, stroking a hand over her head. Compassion and caring is not something one would expect from eleven year old boys, but Gideon was suddenly acting like a friend to her and she couldn't for the life of her understand why.
"Don't worry about it Gideon, you don't have to be nice to me just because I'm crying. I know what most people think of me, I'm not expecting anyone to be nice to me." The only person who had been nice to her had been Wesley Varnum, the boy she'd gone to the Valentine's Day banquet with.
Gideon sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry I said those things before Rylee, but at the time you were acting like a total snob and I know that's the lifestyle you are used to, not everyone here is. I want to be your friend Rylee, I really do if you'll forgive me," he said with all sincerity and she blinked, tilting her head watching him.
"Thanks Gideon, that does mean a lot,and I'm just not ready to talk about it right now. I've still got to talk to Professor Snape or Professor Dumbledore, and if I can't get either of them Professor McGonagall. I'll probably even have to leave for a day or so."
Gideon said nothing, simply held her for a few moments, letting her sip her tea and calm down. "Go talk to them, I'll see you later alright?" He brushed a chaste kiss across the top of her head and pushed himself up from the seat and offered her a light smile. "Whatever it is Rylee, you'll survive."
Rylee sighed and pushed herself up from the seat, not bothering to fix her make-up or anything, still clutching to the handful of tissues as she slipped out of the Common Common room and headed to the Great Hall to see if Professor Snape was at the High Table or if she would have to go down to the Dungeons.
She kept the letter from her mother in hand, to show Professor Snape and to gain his advice on what she needed to do and to find out if arrangements could be made for her to attend the funeral of her Grandmother Catharine who had died at St. Mungo's yesterday afternoon.
Heightened Security
Author: Carys
Date: 05-27-12 08:09
Carys sat in her History of Magic N.E.W.T. review class and only half-listened to the instructor, who was covering material taught over the course of seven years at Hogwarts in just one term at St. Emrys University. Carys knew that she needed to focus, especially since term ended next week and the exam would follow.
Concentrating fully on anything at St. Emrys seemed extremely difficult nowadays. The wizard Carys had unintentionally stumbled upon in the office of Emrys Everyday had not been found. Security had searched campus and the immediate surrounding area high and low but had come up empty-handed.
Security had even confiscated parchments from the Emrys Everyday office, those Carys had thought the wizard had been rifling through. Some of the parchments were notes for random stories, but several belonged to the missing persons investigation the newspaper team had been working on. There wasn't any proof to suggest that the wizard was involved in those crimes, but it was the only lead anybody had right now.
Because the wizard in question was still at large, security had been heightened at the university. Carys, who had never really noticed the presence of security before, even though she knew St. Emrys had security officers, now saw them everywhere. She even saw Griffin from time to time, who had told her that some of the younger aurors were posing as students in an effort to keep the rest of the student body and staff safe and to catch the wizard, should he make another appearance on campus.
Carys wanted to feel safe at St. Emrys, especially with security on high alert for the wizard she'd seen, but it wasn't easy. What if that wizard had been the one to kill Professor Maidstone? What if he'd been involved in the disappearances of Dacia Osterberg and Ekaterina Larin, whose bodies, if they were dead as feared, still hadn't been found? Carys swallowed hard. Would she have been next, had the wizard caught up to her?
She shuddered in her chair.
The student next to her shot her a curious glance but Carys pretended not to notice. Instead, she gripped her quill more tightly and forced herself to listen to the History of Magic professor lecturing at the front of the classroom.
The Gift
Author: Hermione Granger
Date: 05-28-12 12:48
For breakfast yesterday morning, Hermione had prepared a stack of waffles and a thick slab of bacon. All this, plus a bowl of cut up strawberries, a dish of sweet cream butter, and a bottle of syrup had gone onto the breakfast table. Lastly, Hermione had placed a card on Ron's plate.
Yesterday had been his twenty-sixth birthday. Hermione had gotten him something more substantial than the card, but she'd suspected that what the card contained would far surpass any other gift he received. At least she'd hoped so.
He'd come in toweling off his hair from his morning shower. A smile had spread across his face upon seeing the delicious breakfast awaiting him on his birthday.
"A feast fit for a king," he'd said, dropping a kiss onto Hermione's upturned cheek.
"If your highness would please sit down," she'd said with a smile, gesturing to his chair.
He'd seated himself and picked up the card. It was a simple piece of cream-colored card stock, which Hermione had folded in half. On the outside, Hermione had written, To Ron on his birthday, Love Hermione.
She'd leaned into him and put her arm around his shoulders. "Open it," she'd said.
Ron had unfolded the card. Inside, Hermione had pasted a black and white image that Ron couldn't make heads or tails of. "Am I looking at it the right way?" he'd finally asked her.
"Yes," Hermione had replied, dropping a kiss onto the top of Ron's head. "Remember yesterday how I went to get a check-up? Well, I decided to go to my old family doctor."
"In the Muggle world? Why would you want to do that?"
"There are some things doctors do better than healers," Hermione had answered. She'd tapped the black and white image on the card. Then she'd picked up one of Ron's hands and placed it onto her stomach.
Ron had looked between his hand and the black and white still image for quite some time before exclaiming, "No way!" Then he'd peered a bit harder at the image. "Is that…?"
"Yes. That's a baby. Our baby."
Now it was more than 24 hours later and Hermione was at St. Mungo's, working a shift in the Spell Research Laboratory. Less than two weeks remained in this rotation, and then Hermione would be a full-fledged healer. Ron had already talked about throwing her a graduation party on some upcoming weekend, and perhaps now they would also make it a "We're having a baby!" party. Of course, they'd told everybody their big news already. Molly and Arthur were over the moon at the thought of another grandchild to add to the growing Weasley brood.
But happiest of all were Hermione and Ron, who already had two four-legged, furry children and one feathered child, and very much looked forward to meeting the little witch or wizard they had created together.
Gold Star in Productivity - Closer to Grand Opening
Author: Oreileah McCoi
Date: 05-29-12 08:58
Meagan was in day care, Jim at work, and it was now two days into the life of Raynor-Evans Linguistic and Legal Services. Orei had stepped down from her position at the Ministry and now turned her attention to setting up the offices for her and Christian. She'd spent most of the morning (with a break only for attending class at St. Emrys since the term was coming to an end soon) cleaning and organizing as well as getting furniture ordered for both the upstairs and the downstairs. At the moment, she was currently discussing a few things with the interior designer that was hired (and thankfully not costing an arm and a leg) about wallpapers and flooring. All in all they were looking to officially open for business in the next couple of weeks after the term at St. Emrys had let out. Already, she'd interviewed a couple of hires for the linguistics area of things and Christian has already gotten a couple of paralegals and other staff on board for the legal aspects of things.
Both are already starting with clients, because of their reputations in their fields at the Ministry and that is a good start. All clients have been notified of the new location of their services as well as when the offices will officially be open. Things were shaping up quite nicely, and all in all she was glad to finally be going into business for herself. She'd already gotten some business cards printed off for herself and Christian. Furniture delivery would be happening by this weekend, and that meant that she wouldn't be able to make the Gryffindor quidditch match at Hogwarts this weekend because she'd be accepting the delivery of furniture, unless of course Christian decided that he would be accepting the delivery - she'd talk to him about it.
Christian arrived just after the designer left and gave Orei a quick hug. "Hey sweetheart. Everything going well?" He asked.
"Well enough. The designer will be back later tonight to start the walls and flooring, and furniture will be here Saturday morning. Which reminds me, think you will be able to take delivery of the furniture? I've kinda got a date with Jim for the Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor quidditch match this weekend at the Castle," she said with an impish grin.
Christian laughed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, dear. I will accept the delivery of the furniture and Daniel and I will start setting things up while you and your husband have a date on Saturday."
"No need to sound so put out about it..." She teased him, brushing a kiss to his cheek. "Now, where are you taking me for lunch since I've spent the entire morning dealing with people and getting our office set up."
Christian laughed and slid an arm around her, giving her a light hug. "I think we are going to the Crown and Cauldron for lunch, unless you object, and then I am thinking curry in London."
"Crown and Cauldron sounds good, but the four of us can do curry for dinner tonight after Jim gets out of work. I've got one more class today so I'm done at the office for the moment. After lunch I'm heading back to St. Emrys to get some studying in before my last class. I will be glad when finals are through next week, I really will be. Then, I've got one more term to go and I will be done."
"Good for you, and I'm looking forward to starting things up with our office."
Conversation turned toward their small business as they found a table in the restaurant and ordered lunch. Arrangements were made for dinner tonight, and Orei would tell more than likely stop off and tell Jim where they were going before she headed back to campus for her last class of the day.
(Azaelia) Matters of the Heart
Author: Isolde
Date: 05-29-12 14:10
The library saw a steady stream of business after lunch, whereas in the morning it had been somewhat slow. Azaelia had spent her time picking up books left on tables, carts and in study carrels and had filled out a supply list pending Professor Dumbledore's approval. Some of the books needed new due date cards, and the stack of blank ones in the library's supply closet had started to thin out. She could also use more rubber stamps.
Now she sat at the front desk and checked in a stack of materials that had been dropped off by a seventh year student. The student had wanted to recheck most of the items, but many of the books had a long waiting list, being useful study material for the N.E.W.T. exams. Azaelia put the student on the bottom of the list, much to that student's disappointment, and then set about sending notifications to the students next in line for the books.
When she finished with that work, she found a moment of reprieve. Azaelia clasped her hands together and looked around to see if anyone was trying to flag her down to ask a question, but everybody in the library had noses in their books or were frantically copying down notes.
Azaelia's eyes dropped to the ring finger on her left hand and a smile spread across her face. Last weekend, Robert had gotten down on one knee and presented her with a princess cut diamond on a platinum band. Two small emeralds, representing their former house, Slytherin, were set on either side of the diamond.
Who knew that her first love, one she thought she would never seen again after he'd transferred from Hogwarts and then she'd moved all the way to Chile, would ultimately find her again and ask her to be his wife?
A throat cleared and she looked up to find her cousin's cousin, Mark, standing before her. He noticed the ring on her finger and said, "Congratulations."
"Thanks," she told him. "Here to study?"
"I wanted to get some homework out of the way before practice starts," Mark replied.
"Good idea. That's less you'll have to do tonight after dinner or tomorrow," Azaelia said.
Mark nodded and made to go off to find a table, but he hesitated and turned back to Azaelia. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she said. "What's up?"
"How do you know when somebody is the one?"
Azaelia let out a tinkling laugh. "Well, you are a little young to be thinking that way." But her sentence trailed off when she realized that she had been a year younger than Mark when she and Robert had first dated. Had she known he was the one then? Probably not, but he obviously had been.
She bit her lip. "It's Kate, isn't it?"
Mark opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating whether to deny it even though it wasn't like he kept it a secret at school. Surely Azaelia had seen them together, holding hands and maybe even kissing.
"Yeah," he finally admitted. "My parents don't like her. They don't know…"
Azaelia chewed on her lower lip. "Well, she is a nice girl for a Hufflepuff. I'm not quite as biased as I used to be. Isolde, Pyrrhus and I were terribly superior when we were young." She looked wistful, thinking back on that not-so-long ago time.
"I think it's a good reflection on you that you've grown out of it at such a young age. As for your parents… you're not old enough to not listen to them yet, but don't let them dictate what you feel in your heart. If Kate's the one, then don't let her go. And as for how you know if she is or isn't, well, you just know."
Whether that answered Mark's question, Azaelia couldn't tell. He seemed to ponder her words and then said, "Thanks."
"Sure."
He turned away from her then and selected a nearby table, where he spread out his books and started on his homework. Azaelia, meanwhile, thought about her answer to Mark and decided she was right. The heart never lied.
Wasted Minutes
Author: Zabrynna
Date: 05-29-12 14:19
Scrubbing a hand across her eyes Zabrynna scowls down at the badly structured sentence she's just written. It's easy to remove the three long lines of the overly complicated sentence. It's that every time she has to go back and fix something, the seconds add up to minutes. With end of Hilary Term next week, those minutes are better spent on other things.
Badly done sentence gone, replaced by two shorter, much more clear ones, the onyx ink in sharp, crisp contrast to the pale ivory of the parchment, Zabrynna reads over the entire paragraph before continuing. The quiet of the study carrel is overwhelming at times but a table in the main part of the library would leave her open to interruptions by friends stopping to say hello and would also leave her more open to sitting and staring at what others are doing instead of working. Zabrynna does have a very small, portable WWN receiver in her satchel but when she'd tried having it on earlier, she spent more time humming along to songs, tapping her quill to the beat than she did reading through reference material or writing this paper.
The paper is the last of many for a Monday-Wednesday Communications course. There are no written exams, just project and papers with presentations. During the time slotted next week for the final exam, Zabrynna and her classmates will be giving their last papers in no less than three but no more than five minute presentations. For those in the class writing their papers as they should be done, that means condensing down the material to be presented. That means extra time spent practicing, figuring out what needs to be said and what's fine to leave for the professor's reading.
Making this paper with its presentation worse than usual is that the professor waited till the last regular class meeting, which was yesterday, to expand on the blip of information on the syllabus, giving the specifics the students needed to get the paper written. For a Speech and Communications professor, she certainly can be lacking in her ability to communicate in a timely manner with her students. Dipping quill into ink and tapping off the excess Zabrynna gives a snort, thinking about how frustrating and annoying this particular professor has been at times through the term. If she takes other classes of this nature, she will certainly avoid having this instructor again if at all possible.
Finishing another page, Zabrynna puts down her quill to reach for another of the books she's using for research. Another scowl wrinkles her features when she realizes she'd grabbed the wrong title from the shelf. Oh well. She needed to make another run for more anyway. After making sure she's got all the information she needs from the titles she did use for footnotes and bibliography, Zabrynna scrounges in her satchel for the sheet on which she's written a long list of possible references for the paper, gathers up the books scattered on the carrel's table and leaves to venture into the stacks for the fourth time today.
Twenty minutes later, laden with a fresh stack of books Zabrynna reaches the door of the study carrel, shifting the stack every so slightly before leaning into the door knob, wiggling one hand to get a good enough grip to turn it while still keeping hold of the books. Easing the door open, chin resting on top of the book stack to help steady it, she slowly enters, feeling back with one foot to lightly kick the door shut.
Only, her foot doesn't contact the door, which does, nonetheless, close with a decisive snap. Her foot encounters something else, but it's not until a vice of arms tighten around her that Zabrynna's brain puts together that what her shoed foot encountered was a human leg.
Simultaneously screaming and kicking that foot back again, this time with the intent of smashing into the person's knee or, better yet, his groin, the books in the stack sliding off the stack left and right as he - she presumes it's a he - tries to whirl her around. He swings the wrong way, though, meeting her foot instead of avoiding it. There's a snarl of swear words as he staggers from the blow to his knee. Zabrynna, extremely glad that when coming to the library, she'd rid herself of the school robe she'd worn to classes this morning. There's no worry of her foot getting caught or twisted in the skirting as she brings it back once more, connecting a second time with the same knee.
The hit is enough that he releases her. She stumbles forward, hands scrabbling at jean pockets for her wand, belated remembering it's in her satchel. Zabrynna dives for the satchel where it rests on the floor by the table, wincing when she grazes the back of the chair in the process. Hands grab her feet, sharply tugging her backwards. Screaming again more loudly, expecting at any second to be hit with a stunning spell, one hand reaching for the table leg to help slow the dragging and the other for the tip of the wand peeking from a satchel pocket, wiggling and wrenching her legs and body, there's a satisfying crunch when one foot breaks free, whacking him hard for the third time.
"My wand! Bitch!"
Raised voices reach them, as others in the library become aware of Zabrynna's screams. He lets go of her other foot, which allows her to lunge for her wand again. The wood is smooth and cool in her hand as she rolls, pointing the wand, only to be met with his own kicks, first to ribs then to cheek.
The pain in her side is fierce and one eye is already swelling but through it she finally gets a glimpse of a young man, probably her age or a little older. Dark hair cut in a short style. Medium build to go with average height. Shaken as she is and in pain, vision messed up from the kick the the face, she doesn't get a clear look at more specific features as she hisses between clenched teeth, "Stupefy!"
Though the space in the carrel is small, she misses as he bolts for the door. As he throws it open, literally throwing someone at the door out of the way as he runs by. There's shouting and the sound of running, she guesses taking off in pursuit.
Lying back on the floor, hand gripping her wand so tightly the muscles are starting to cramp, Zabrynna has the weird thought that more time working on her paper has just been wasted. A couple of people flank her, one of them having to shove the chair out of the way to do it. When one asks, "Are you okay?" Zabrynna peers at the girl through her good eye and, in between politeness and sarcasm, asks in reply, "Why do people ask that when the answer is obviously no?"
Moving On
Author: Griet
Date: 05-29-12 15:42
With the WWN playing softly in the background, Griet prepared flashcards for next week's final exams. She sat in the middle of her bed, on a quilt her mother had found in an old cedar trunk in the attic of the family home. Her schoolbooks and notes were spread out all around her on the bed. A half-eaten box of Chinese takeout with chopsticks sticking out was perched precariously on the edge of her nightstand. An uneaten fortune cookie was next to the box, a little safer in distance from the edge of the nightstand.
She hummed to the music and thumbed through her textbooks, jotting down notes as she went from page to page. When her quill unexpectedly snapped, Griet had to get up to find a new one. Her quest took her all the way to the living room, where she found one on the coffee table next to a shopping list she'd made. Griet began to return to her bedroom when there was a knock at the door.
"Hi, Griet," said Tucker, after Griet had come to the door.
"Hi, Tucker. Want to come in?"
"Sure. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"I was just doing a little studying, but you being here isn't going to bother me." She gestured for him to follow her into her bedroom. Griet climbed back onto her bed into the only space devoid of books and parchment, while Tucker sank into a green papasan chair.
"I really only came by because I'm tired of studying for my own exams," Tucker admitted with a sly grin. "And now I see that my visit isn't going to distract you from your work. You're making me look lazy, you know."
Griet stuck her tongue out at him. "Maybe you're just jaded. This is only my second term at St. Emrys. You've been at this a lot longer than me, so I'm sure the novelty of it all has long worn off."
"That's where you're wrong," Tucker replied, grinning some more. "I look at St. Emrys as delaying adulthood just a little bit longer. I'm not ready to graduate yet, even though I suppose I must eventually. Can you see me working a real job?"
"Sure, you're a landlord. That's already a real job."
Tucker laughed. "I guess you're right. You're smart, Griet. I like that about you."
Griet smiled at him. "Thanks, but I think you're overestimating my intelligence."
"I don't think so."
Griet stuck out her tongue again. "I'll tell you what," she said then. "I'm glad the next full moon is when we don't have to worry about classes."
"You and me both," Tucker said. "Not that I enjoy wolfing out during the holidays, but it beats being sick and having to go to class or take an exam at the same time. Are you going to go to your family during break?"
"Maybe after the full moon," Griet said. "It's easier changing here than it is there."
Tucker said, "I know you mean the accommodations, but I think it's nice that you and I are together when it happens. It makes the whole thing less lonely."
"Yeah, I think so too."
They looked at each other for a long while. Then Tucker cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "Talked to Oberon lately?"
Griet frowned. "No. Haven't heard from him or heard anything about him." Then she shrugged. "He was my first love, the man I loved to hate, even. I'll never forget that, but at the same time, I'm over it. And I have been for a very long time."
She looked at Tucker.
"I'm glad to hear that," Tucker said. "Really glad."
They stared at each other for another long while, and then Griet climbed off of her bed and stood before Tucker, who looked up at her from the low, round chair in which he sat. Griet looked for some sort of signal in his eyes and then climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Really glad," Tucker repeated.
"Good," Griet said, and then she kissed him.