Inflecto

This comes immediately following the last log I posted... sorry for the delay

raven_in_flight — Fri, 08 Oct 2004 04:30:45 GMT

The walk home from Hogsmeade was silent and tense, and Cho clung to Roger's hand. They made their way into the castle, up and down corridors and flights of stairs before reaching Cho's Head Girl quarters. After the girl had uttered the password that allowed both of them through the portrait hole, she turned to face her lover. "Well?"

Roger's fingers twitched: he still wanted to hold her hand in his, to reassure himself that she was okay and at his side. "You're going to have to tell me where to start. If you let me decide, I'll go on about why the bloody hell weren't you WITH someone at that place. What if we hadn't shown up? What if Moon hadn't been drunk off his arse?" He shut his mouth before he could go on. He didn't like this panic, this feeling on unease that was only just starting to go away. It unnerved him.

Cho bit her lip, and reached out to him, placing her slender arms around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry for worrying you," she whispered. "And believe me, if he hadn't approached me, I would have been out of there much sooner."

His arms nearly locked themselves around her shoulders as he pressed his face into her hair. "I was just so scared," he confessed in a rush, his words teasing strands of her hair. "I think my heart was ready to fall right out of my chest, it hurt that much. It just didn't want to beat when I saw you and that... that..." He shivered at the thought.

"I was there to check to make sure no students had been there that day," Cho's voice was muffled against the material of his shirt. "Pansy and I ran into him and one of his friends last time we were on patrol there... THANKFULLY we were able to extricate ourselves, though with unexpected help. But that establishment has been barred from students after we told Dumbledore. Nevertheless, I am supposed to stop by at the end of the visit to ascertain that everyone had followed the rules."

"Oliver and I will watch it then," Roger said firmly. "Let us know when the visits to Hogsmeade are, and we'll check up on that area until you head back to the school. No one will get in, and you won't have to put yourself in that much danger. That's too much for one person to risk on their own."

Cho paused at that, raising her eyes worriedly to his face. "What were you three doing there tonight, anyway?" she asked softly.

His eyes met hers as an inner battle briefly took place. He wanted to tell her... badly. Secrets between them had never sat well with him despite deeming it a neccesity. Yet at the same time, he feared telling her too much would put her in even more danger. Finally, he sighed, guiding her to the couch so they could sit. "It's a long story, but the short answer is that we were there because Moon was there."

"And... what sort of business did you have with him?" she asked, taking his hands, her gaze never breaking from his. "I thought it rather odd that three rival Quidditch players would be together like that. Even in our school days, we rarely hobnobbed with the members of the other teams."

"It's a bit... complicated," Roger said, his big understatement of the evening. Then after a deep breath, he continued. "Oliver, Elric, and I, along with several other members of the Quidditch League, have formed a... network of sorts. We keep our ears to the ground for small tidbits of information, whatever we can gather from other teammates or related Quidditch officials. At least... that's how we started out. We were gathering very little, and some of the members wanted to get more involved, so we've expanded into a spy network if you will. Moon was to be our assignment this evening."

"Oh," Cho felt as though ice had imbedded itself into her spinal column, freezing her in place. For several minutes, she couldn't find words.

"Moon's a dangerous man," she said at last, her voice a whisper against his shirt. "He wants all who aren't followers of Voldemort dead."

His hand glided over her hair, trying to soothe her worry that he could feel in the stiffness of her shoulders. "I know, love. That's why we're tracking him. We want to try and prevent him committing any more murders." When he didn't feel her relax any, he added, "And I also know that he's dangerous. They all are. That's why we work in teams or pairs at the very least. We have emergency contacts, warnings... it's all been thought through very carefully. Plus we have the advantage of being very low on their radar. They wouldn't think of Quidditch players doubling as spies.

"Roger," Cho's voice was almost inaudible, and her face was full of pain and fear and love. "Please... you must be careful. I know this sounds selfish, but---" she paused to take a shaky breath, and her voice, when she spoke again, was on the verge of breaking. "I can't lose you. I don't think I could stand it if anything were to happen to you."

His arms squeezed a little tighter around her slim frame curled against his chest. "I wouldn't dare. I spent too many years of my life trying to convince myself that I could live without you, and I know now I was being a fool." He tipped her face up towards his by curling his fingers under her chin. "I'd never, ever willingly leave you. Know that, and know that I'll do everything in my power to come back to you."

"Once I'm out of school," she said, after a moment's deliberation, "We'll be able to do better than that."

Eyebrows rising, Roger opened his mouth with what seemed like a quick reprimand or denial... then he shut it. After a short pause, he said softly. "Cho, ultimately I couldn't stop you. I don't have the power, and even if I did, I don't have the right. And after what you've lost... what you've seen others loose... you have plenty of reason to join in. I just don't want you to be one of those lost. Honestly, I don't think my heart could withstand it." When she opened her mouth to reassure him, he stopped her by gently brushing his thumb over her lips, stilling them. "Therefore, I'm not going to stop you. We're going to do this together, all the way. We'll fight back in our own way... aiding the cause side by side... alright?"

"Yes," she smiled at last, pressing a kiss to the fingers lingering by her lips. "I'll feel better about you if I were with you... and you can be more assured of my safety when we're together." Leaning in and standing on her tip-toes, she brushed her lips over his. "I'm glad you came today," she whispered against his lips between light kisses.

"So am I," he whispered back, his kisses building from light and tender to urgent and wanting. She'd frightened him nearly to death today, and feeling her lips, her warmth against him helped to remind him that she was still alive and breathing. Even though they were nearly clinging to each other, he held her closer still, murmuring, "I'm not sure I can let you go. Not tonight."

"I don't want you to," she whispered against his lips, her fingers moving of their own volition towards the cloak that she hadn't had a chance to take off after coming inside. With a flick of her wrist, the catch was open, and the dark, heavy piece of clothing fell to a pool behind her feet.

"So long as we're in agreement then," he answered before capturing her lips with his, moving over them tenderly, sweetly. He was savoring the moment, the taste of her, the feeling bubbling between them. Roger knew that eventually the sun would rise and a new day would come, but for now, the night was theirs and it could go on forever. Gently, he scooped her up into his arms and made his way to the bedroom, covering her face in feather-light kisses every step of the way.

She twined her arms around his neck after he set her down on top of the sheets, pulling him down on top of her, her raven hair fanning out around her head on the pillows. The relief and pent-up emotions were released now, and even as they kissed each other, limbs entwined and fingers moving over each other's body, she felt tears well up in her eyes. For his sake, though, she kept them in check.

He didn't miss the shine in her eyes, and when a single droplet escaped, he kissed it away. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he was terrified. She knew their secrets now, and she knew who they were dealing with. Her life was in more danger, a factor that was constantly increasing the closer she came to graduating and joining their efforts. Yet at the same time, he was more proud of her than he had ever been, and he could feel his pride and love for her swelling in his chest. For now, he'd put all thoughts aside and just... love her. They'd deal with tomorrow when it came.

Homework Help

hermie_j — Tue, 05 Oct 2004 04:10:46 GMT

"How can you remember all of this?" a black-haired boy, eyes full of exhaustion, stared at his female friend. "It's starting to hurt my head, and I haven't even started on Potions..."

She slightly shook her head, ignoring the impulse to roll her eyes. "This is why you study throughout the term, not in these last few weeks. If you do it in that manner, like you are supposed to do, it all makes sense as you actually learn it instead of memorizing it."

"I have studied it," Harry argued, before wilting a bit under her glare. "Probably not as hard as you..."

"Nor as long, nor with as much effort," Hermione reminded him. "Everything that is part of this problem is based off of the last chapter, but with only new and more difficult circumstances, which we were supposed to learn how to deal with in this past one."

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples and knocking his glasses slightly askew. "I'll learn it, really. I did all right on the last test... but I just have to review it a bit more, I guess."

Hermione sighed, "How in the world do you expect to learn all of this by the end of term? You can't exactly slow down time - remember?" She paused, knowing that she was being a bit too harsh on him and took a look over at her text with various pages dog-eared for references. "I'll help you as much as I can, Harry, but you do need to end this habit."

"I know," he said contritely. "And I really do appreciate your help, Hermione."

"I know you do," she replied. "Now, the best way to study things is to break it up into small pieces and to take breaks once you have finished going over a piece. It gives your mind a break and it helps keep everything clear." She paused for a second, then with a smile suggested, "How about a break? It's best to take them before you try to over-complicate matters and inform your friend of what is going on in your life."

Harry chuckled at that. "That sounds wonderful right now... I'm not brilliant like you, and my brain is starting to hurt a little."

"I thought so - you looked as though you'd rather see Snape rather than read another paragraph," Hermione laughed. "At least you aren't brash like Ron was a few weeks back -- the nerve of him, yelling in the library that his brain had gone to mush," Hermione rolled her eyes at the recollection.

"Madame Pince must have been thrilled about THAT one," Harry winced.

"Oh, she about threatened to have my Prefect badge taken up. It was . . . an event, to say in the least," she said slowly. "Needless to say, Ron hasn't been back since and probably will never return, lest I drag him there."

"Well," Harry grinned, "If anyone could make him do something, it would be you." Lowering his voice, he confided. "I think Ron's scared of you."

"I wasn't too happy with him, if that explains anything" Hermione admitted. "I did have to explain the incident to a few Ravenclaws that saw the end of it."

"Oh?" Harry looked at her curiously. "Did they say something?"

"I can't recall off the top of my head - a few seemed to be having a study group and a few others came from various other corners of the library - but . . . I'm sure they told other members of their house."

"I see," Harry nodded slowly. "Well... hopefully they won't give us too much trouble."

"I doubt they would give us any trouble - a few did have given me odd looks since but it's nothing to be of any true concern." Hermione thought for a second, ". . . You don't recall Lisa saying anything about it?"

"No," Harry's cheeks pinked ever-so-slightly. "I haven't heard her mention it, that I recall..."

Hermione smiled, "So what is up with you and her these days? Lavender has become preoccupied with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, so I haven't heard anything about your exciting love life in . . . . at least a couple of weeks."

"We're good," Harry answered. "She's... just really special." His face turned what he was sure was an unattractive shade of red. "She's really nice."

"I assumed that she was nice," Hermione replied, trying not to react too much to Harry's violent blush.

"I... er, we're going steady." Harry told her, then paused. "You knew that."

"I . . . " Hermione paused, perplexed. "I knew that you two were dating on occasion, or so I thought . . . but not steady."

"She's not like you and Ron," Harry tried to explain. "It's different, but... she understands me in another way. Not the fights and Voldemort, but the other things. And I don't ever want anything to happen to her."

"Nothing is going to happen without us knowing far in advance, Harry. But . . . her understanding . . . that's good, you know? That she understands you in other ways that, I guess, Ron and I can't. It's probably good for you, to branch out to people where there aren't any memories of fighting Voldemort together. It's just . . . it seems normal." Hermione stopped, trying to process the information.

"Thanks," Harry smiled at her. "So what about the smartest witch in our year? How's YOUR life been going, aside from studying?"

"Aside from the library incident . . . far from eventful, other than I completed my last essay for my Charms class . . . I honestly can't think of anything - oh! Crookshanks did go on a mice killing spree and leaving them at the foot of my bed." Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "May not seem a big deal to you but it is when you sleep next to Lavender."

"I'll bet," Harry winced. "I hope that girl wasn't too traumatized by it all... she's seemed to have an interesting time of it this year, too. Attacking Parkinson and all..."

"Oh yes, how could I have forgotten that?" Hermione sighed. "This is probably our most needed summer break, don't you think? Let everyone just . . . relax, if only for a moment at home."

"I know," Harry said quietly. "I just wish that we could have some peace, you know?"

"We all do, Harry, we all do," she softly repeated.

"One of these days, when there's none of THIS stuff to worry about, we're all going to have to experience being a kid again."

"Being a kid," Hermione repeated, " . . . we weren't kids for very long were we? But," she looked at him and smiled, "if we hadn't had grown up, I would think that troll would have had three snacks that night."

"I know," he grimaced a bit at the memory. "We would have gone to rather horrible, smelly deaths..."

". . . And joined poor Myrtle," she winced at the thought. "I think that would be much worse than the death."

"That WOULD be rather horrible," he nodded. "She spies on the Prefect's bathroom."

"She . . . That's unnerving, actually. And do spare me the details of how you found that one out."

"All right," Harry said solemnly. "I shall. Ron would probably see more of her, though... I think she mostly haunts the Male Prefect's bathroom."

"I would assume so," Hermione replied in an uneasy tone. "I do believe I remember that she was quite taken by you."

"Please don't remind me," Harry groaned. "I really have no idea how that happened."

Hermione laughed, "Oh, but that is what makes it so amusing. Besides - don't you remember that back in those days there were quite a few girls taken by you? I'm sure Lisa would be sure to say something about that, if they tried that again."

"I'm sure," Harry muttered, remembering an incident in which a particularly audacious 5th year had grabbed his arse and Lisa's subsequent show of temper.

"We've all matured a bit since then, I believe," Hermione said. "I doubt that would occur outside of anyone in their 1st year."

Harry nodded slowly. "Well... all in all, I'm glad that I have all of you in my life. I don't know what I would have done without you."
Hermione smiled, "The same to you. It's . . . I don't want to think of what it would have been like for me without you and Ron."

"Ah, we can't help you with your homework though," Harry gave her a mournful look.

"That's true, which is something that we should probably get back to."

Harry gave a dramatic sigh as he cracked open his book once more. "Your wish is my command."

starringangie — Fri, 01 Oct 2004 22:33:23 GMT

"So," a smiling young man in a pale blue Oxford and casual trousers stepped out of a cafe and addressed his female companion. "I hope you had a nice meal?"

Angelina followed him out and grinned. "Of course I did," she replied as she laced her fingers between his. "Did you?"

"Excellent," he answered, giving her hand a squeeze. Though his face betrayed none of it, he was slightly nervous and ill-at-ease. But he held her close and Apparated her away from the cafe where they'd dined, and when they reappeared, they were facing the sea. In the distance, the sun was setting-- the sky brilliant with splashes of rose and purple and gold shot with crimson streaks, and a brisk wind wafted in towards the shore, hitting their faces.

She unconsciously wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself close to him in the suddenly cool beach air. Her hair, loose (a rarity) whipped around her face. She reached up and brushed a few strands aside as they stared out into the ocean. Angie immediately recognized the spot.

"You liked it here last time," he said by way of explanation. "And it's warmer these days... I thought you might appreciate a break from hectic city life."

"I do," she murmured. "Shall we sit?"

"Yes," he smiled, and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

Sighing, she dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Let's never come here with anyone else," said Angie softly. "It would never be as good."

"Oh, I've never brought anyone else here before," he told her honestly. "And... that won't change, either."

Angelina sat up and looked into his face, a slow, sweet smile appearing on her lips, though she said nothing.

There was something very important that he needed to ask, but he was slightly hesitant. It wasn't so much that he was apprehensive about her response, because he was fairly sure of what it would be-- but it had to be just the perfect moment, because she deserved no less. He chuckled lightly at the thought, and his fingers caressed the ends of her hair. "I almost feel out of my league with you," he told her suddenly.

Her brow furrowed though a smile still played upon her lips. "What do you mean?" asked Angie quietly, cocking her head to one side.

"You're.. you," he started, reaching out and smoothing out the furrow between her brows with a gentle fingertip. "You deserve the best, and you're warm and beautiful and perfect." This wasn't the moment, not yet, so he simply smiled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I adore you."

Something in the back of her mind -- the acknowledgement that this was indeed the boy . . . man she had once called a 'scummy cheating bastard -- made her chuckle lightly. "I," she began, with a large smile as she kicked off her shoes and buried her toes in the sand, "Am competative, loud, and have an irritating giggle." She grinned. "But I'm with you and better for it."

"You're adorable when you giggle," he told her bluntly. "It's very charming on you."

She blushed and twisted to face him. "You bite your tongue between your teeth just slightly when you're trying to focus, you stare when you think I'm not looking, and your mouth opens ever so slightly when you're asleep," Angie whispered in a conspiratory voice, eyes twinkling, "Did you know that?"

"No, but thanks for the information," he laughed lightly. "As for the staring... it's probably been going on for longer than you'd expect."

Angie shrugged and looked back toward the water, eyes still mischevious.

"I hated you for being so talented and together and beautiful when we were in school," he whispered against her hair. "The fact that I COULDN'T just dismiss you as some rival to beat-- just another Quidditch player from another house."

Her brown eyes shifted to his face in mild surprise, impish twinkle gone replaced by a solemn depth. Her lips parted to speak, but instead she stared for a long moment, unsure of what to say. That was news to her. "Are you serious?" she asked quietly.

"I knew it couldn't have been easy, especially that year, but you never made it so that I could pity you. I daresay you would never have given a Slytherin the satisfaction then," he told her softly.

Angelina looked down at her feet, uncertain of what to say.

He cupped her face so that they were eye to eye, and his expression was tender. "You make it impossible for me not to love you," he whispered.

"For the longest time," she breathed in reply, "I thought it impossible that you truly could."

"But I do," he smiled, brushing her hair away from her face. Leaning in, he gently and briefly kissed her lips.

Their noses brushed as he pulled back and Angie giggled. Then promptly dropped her face into her hands.

"What's the matter?" he asked curiously, pulling her into his arms.

"It's the bloody giggling!" she exclaimed, embarrassed.

"It's all right," he gave her a light squeeze. "I don't mind the giggling."

They sat in silence until the sun had conmpletely fallen behind the horizon. Angelina, for her part, had lost track of time. Instead her head had come to rest on his chest, and though she was still slightly awake, she'd shut her eyes and curled into him, drawing up her knees (having tossed her shoes to the side) and wrapping an arm around his abdomen.

He watched the moonrise, and listened to the crashing of the waves as the tide came in, and held her close in his arms the whole time. An indeterminate amount of time later, he glanced down to see her eyelashes resting against her cheeks, her breathing soft and even. Smiling down at her peaceful face, he brushed his lips against her forehead and lay down, casting a warming charm to encircle them even as he closed his own eyes.

The night passed slowly and it was just them . . . a young man and a young woman, both only nineteen, asleep together on the beach as the dull sound of waves hitting the sand played as score to their slumber. Angie slept well in his arms.

He awoke the next morning when the warmth of the rising sun hit his face, blinking a few times as he re-oriented himself. It was the start of a new day, and the sky overhead was as beautiful as it had been last night. Idly, he brushed his fingers over Angelina's face, moving a wayward strand of her hair out of the way.

Angelina stirred. The tiniest hint of a smile appeared on her lips as she felt his light touch.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said softly, looking down into her face.

"Well, hello," she murmured, opening her eyes slowly and looking up at him.

"Did you sleep well?" he inquired, one hand still lingering by her face.

"On a beach . . . in jeans . . . by the water . . . in the sand with the man I love," she said slowly, pretending to mull over the question, before she replied with a decisive, "Yes."

"Well," he grinned down at her. "That's good. I like that you're in a good mood."

"You always put me in a good mood."

"Really?" he asked. "I'll have to keep that in mind. It's a good thing, of course..."

She smiled and twisted so that she lay on her side. Angie brushed her hand across his cheek and ear and into his hair. "Thanks for the escape from London."

"Thank YOU... for everything," he told her seriously. A slight pause, as he surveyed her face with solemn, probing eyes, seeing nothing but contentment. Finally returning her smile, he turned his face to press a kiss to the hand by his face before taking it in his own. "May I ask you a rather personal question?"

"Sure?"

"If I said that I want to be with you forever-- that I love you more than life itself and never want to let you go-- would you feel as though I were being presumptuous?"

Her brow furrowed as she began to process what he was saying. She was slightly confused, positive he wasn't saying what she thought he might be saying . . . part of her mind wandered back to the party at his father's. "Solan?"

"Yes?" he held her gaze squarely, his own eyes filled with a hint of apprehension, but also with love. He quickly extracted something from a pocket in his trousers, and placed it gently in the hand he held. "Would I be asking for too much if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?"

Angelina felt as though some time ago her heart had stopped beating in her chest. That or it was pounding too hard it almost hurt. Everyone was moving slowly. She studied his face with her dark, shocked eyes and found well-masked nerves, his quiet, constant gaze . . . and love that rivaled her own.

"No," she finally whispered, "It wouldn't be too much."

He let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, and laughed lightly, almost in relief. "Then will you marry me someday?"

She was certain she was blushing, and a grin she couldn't even try to control appeared on her face. "Yes."

He suddenly pulled her into his arms, embracing her so tightly it almost hurt, only to pull back and give her a long, deep, exultant kiss. He could still feel her smile against his lips, and his heart soared. When the need for breath finally parted them, his eyes were bright. "I.... was hoping you'd say something like that."

She smiled and laughed and embraced him, completely without words. His father said he made her happy. That the necklace was for the woman who could make him happy.

. . . maybe it wasn't a premature gift after all.

He kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, his arms secure around her-- his fiancee! Grinning, he indicated the box she still held on one hand. "See if you like?"

Angie, still smiling, twisted and looked down at the small ring box she held in her hand. Carefully, she opened it . . . and promptly gasped at her engagement ring. Engagement ring. Her grin grew even wider.

"I wasn't sure of your taste," he told her seriously. "The jeweler suggested something a bit more ostentatious, but..."

She silenced him with a firm kiss to the lips. When it broke off, she looked up at him and declared, "It's beautiful."

"YOU'RE beautiful," he told her, like he had so many times. "And as for the ring... well, it will only be beautiful because you're wearing it."

Angelina kissed him again and smiled.

"I'm sure it's been said before by others," he told her. "But you just made me the happiest fellow alive."

Angelina wrapped her arms around him and kissed his jaw before sighing and dropping her head to his chest. There was no place she'd rather be . . . no one she'd rather be with in the entire world. That moment . . . it felt to her as though she hadn't really known happiness before it.

And to think that this was only the beginning.

_mbletchley_ — Wed, 29 Sep 2004 05:20:46 GMT

Warm and comfortable. Pansy slipped from unconsciousness to realize that there was a warm blanket draped over her body, and a strong arm encircling her shoulders. Her cheek was pressed not to a pillow, but to soft skin.

She stretched languidly. A vague soreness revealed itself at the same time her back creaked ever so slightly, the byproduct of spending so many days and nights hunched in an uncomfortable chair at the medical facility. The soreness, however ...

She and Miles ... !! Pansy felt her face flush furiously, even as a ridiculous grin tugged at her lips.

Miles felt a slight movement next to him, tugging him out of sleep, and opened his eyes at the soft rustle of shifting fabric. Hazy green eyes opened to gaze into brilliant blue. Pansy lay next to him, drowsy-looking and rosy-cheeked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He felt his own curving upwards even as he pulled her back into his embrace under the covers.

"Did you sleep well?" Pansy inquired, murmuring. "With someone else .. here, I mean."

"Beautifully," he replied, pressing his lips to the bare, creamy shoulder closest to him. "Yourself?"

"All right," she nodded, angling her neck to rest her cheek on the top of his head.

His fingers gently stroked down her back, resting at her waist. "I could stay like this forever."

She lifted one hand to tangle her fingers in his hair. Merlin, she loved that. And the way he said that word so easily to her, that he didn't consider this to be a simple fling.

He pulled back far enough to give her an impish and yet slightly wistful smile. "Think your parents would object to me keeping you here with me where I can hold you?"

"I couldn't speak for my father, but my mother would be infuriated." Pansy stopped to consider this a moment. "Like so many other things I've done in my life. I've gotten rather used to it.."

He gave her a long, piercing look, before nuzzling her throat gently. "I hope you don't mind... but her anger couldn't keep me away from you," he murmured against her skin.

"Your concern for my honour nearly did," Pansy pointed out, her voice dwindling to a whisper.

"I couldn't bear the thought of harming you... of taking something that you weren't completely willing to give," he confessed honestly. "It would be one of the worst things I could ever do."

"Bletchley, shut up and kiss me."

He laughed at that, but did as she requested, kissing her thoroughly and lovingly, reveling in the feeling of her skin against his. "Wo ai ni," he whispered softly against her lips.

Pansy gave an uneven little chuckle. Just the other day he'd said that, and she'd accused him of calling her a scarlet woman ... "What does that mean?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

He traced the side of her face with his lips, pausing at her ear to whisper the translation. "It means 'I love you' in Chinese," he explained softly.

She nodded. "I like the way it sounds," she murmured.

"Good," he smiled. "I wouldn't say it to anyone else."

"I should hope not. Especially if you wish to retain your title," she said primly, tracing his brows with a brush of her fingertips.

"My title?"

Pansy laughed aloud then. "Slytherin Emperor of Unsociable Gits."

"Lovely," he smirked, before chuckling. "Whereas you, sweetheart, are the fair princess of Slytherin, hmm?"

"I do believe that's what the fifth-years are calling me now," she mused. "The lads that were there when I slapped the hell out of Theo Nott said it, anyway."

"Oh?" he looked at her curiously. "You DO have to catch me up on all that's been going on."

Pansy's face grew solemn. "There was another attack on a group of children from St. George's," she said finally. "Millie's brother Wes among them. And Theo was rumoured to be among them."

His face darkened. "I... see," he said quietly, reminded of the death of his own sister and the Death Eaters' lack of discrimination when it came to victims. And then, there was that situation that both Pansy and Cassius had owled him about... "And... what of that patrol you wrote me about, a while back?"

"Nothing came of that," she said softly.

"Tell me about it," he requested, peering down at her with green eyes full of worry. "Please?"

Pansy looked at him, contemplating for a moment where to begin and what to say in that whole sorry episode, and then sighed. "After Jones was killed, the school staff established those Prefect patrols .. Cho and I were on one when we discovered ourselves to be in the same room as two Death Eaters." She swallowed. "Cassius came along before things could get out of hand."

"And what did Cassius do? What did you and Chang do?" Miles asked quickly, his voice tense with worry. "Did they recognize you?"

"We left." Pansy took a deep, steadying breath. "We were not recognized, although they had quite a lot to say on the subject of you."

He sighed deeply. "It figures... I'm fairly sure that they would have preferred I joined their ranks after finishing school."

"Oh, quite," she said, sharper than she intended.

Suddenly, his arms tightened around her, and he buried his face wordlessly in her fine, silky hair.

"To hear those people talk about you, know they're talking about you, and threaten lives ... it was paralyzing," she whispered. "And you were thousands of miles away, where I couldn't see you, and know you were well."

"And what of YOU?" he whispered, his voice almost shaky. "I shudder to think of what could possibly have happened to you..."

"But it didn't," Pansy said, her voice stronger than she felt. "Look at me. I'm right here, unharmed."

"I know," he murmured, but when his eyes met hers, they still held a remnant of anguished worry-- from the shock and horror he'd felt when he had first gotten the news. "I just..." he paused, and took her hands in his, kissing both gently. "Death Eaters aren't to be underestimated-- and I wouldn't be able to stand it if..." He didn't want to say any of the possibilities, and instead, kissed her forehead softly. "I love you, Pansy. More than life itself."

Her heart tapped a triphammer rhythm against her sternum at the sound of those words. "I didn't realize that your affections were quite that .. profound."

"I wouldn't say so otherwise," he answered simply, still staring down into her eyes.

She wasn't sure what to say. She settled for pressing her lips to his, hoping that they would communicate the mess of emotion in her chest better than her head was capable of.

He kissed her back, feeling an odd, wrenching ache in his chest. There was something decidedly bittersweet about their relationship-- that had nothing to do with the distance between them. It came because their love had sprung out of mutual pain and understanding through grief, and the constant worry that something would happen to each other. Both had already lost far too much.

There were tears glistening on her eyelashes when she pulled away. "I don't know what we're going to do," she said weakly. "I'm going to worry about you, you're going to worry about me, and we're both going to go nutters."

"But we're both going to survive," he whispered fiercely, kissing her tears away. "I won't deny that I will worry about you... but we'll MAKE it. We must..."

Pansy curled into his side, and settled her cheek against his shoulder. Suddenly, the last thing she wanted to think about was leaving him.

"I won't ask you to... stop doing what you feel you must," he continued quietly, somberly, one hand stroking through her fair hair. "But... please don't do anything reckless. You need to stay safe and alive... because my life and happiness rest upon yours."

"I'll do my best," she murmured. She lifted her gaze to his eyes. "My obligations as a Prefect will only take me through the end of term. And then.. a quiet summer in Salisbury, I hope."

"Indeed," he nodded slowly. "I'll be seeing you again, then."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confusion worrying her brows.

He smiled slightly. "I'll be back in England for a spell."

A smile tugged at one corner of Pansy's mouth. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he answered, kissing her cheek lightly. "I expect to see you a great deal."

Pansy slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "Thank all the Gods," she murmured.

He hugged her back, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. For several moments, they stayed together thus, before he pulled away with a slight smirk. "Well... now that the 'business' portion of this morning has been addressed, whatever shall we do now?"

"You really are taxing my patience," she said softly, pulling him back to her.

"Do explain," he chuckled, dipping his head to kiss her collarbone.

"I've spent the last several months wishing that you were somewhat closer than several thousand miles .. now that you are, I'll not have you any further than absolutely necessary."

"I believe I like your way of thinking," he informed her. "We must investigate this subject further."

_mbletchley_ — Tue, 28 Sep 2004 01:37:48 GMT

Breathe.

Pansy took a sip of the plum wine at hand, trying to will herself to be calm. It was rather a Herculean effort, she thought; in the past three days she'd traveled halfway around the world, sat by a hospital cot and suffered the full range of despair and happiness. Sitting in front of this young man and making pleasant conversation should have come naturally.

Instead, she was fumbling her way through. She scowled as a bit of chicken dropped from the pair of chopsticks held awkwardly in hand. Closing her eyes, she murmured, "This is ridiculous," to her dining companion.

She wasn't sure if she meant just the chopsticks.

He glanced at her face, then at the piece of food she dropped. Reaching forward, he picked up the chicken with his own pair of chopsticks and brought it to her lips. "You'll get the hang of it," he told her in a comforting voice.

She tried to summon a smirk, but couldn't be sure that it hadn't turned into a grimace instead. "I certainly hope so," she murmured before accepting the bite he offered.

"I'm sure you will," he said evenly. "Enjoying the country so far, by the way?"

"What I've seen of it," she answered honestly. "Which is to say, I haven't seen much."

He nodded slowly. "I'll have to take some time and give you a tour of the area someday."

Her eyes cast downward for just a moment. "Perhaps if I get to make another visit."

"I wasn't expecting you to make this one," he told her honestly, staring into her face. It had been quite a shock for him to wake up in the hospital... and to find her seated by his cot. Though he hadn't had much time to ponder the surprise before she noticed that he was awake.

"Something we have in common, then," she murmured, a little smile finally tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, of course," he continued, serving her some more of the chicken. "It's a welcome sight to see when one feels as though one had been used for Bludger practice."

The smile faded. "Richardson," she said pointedly before accepting more chicken, "is an idiot."

"Astute observation," he chuckled. "He seemed rather taken, well... before all this... with my 'pretty girlfriend' who 'keeps me in a good mood'."

"And then his idiocy landed you in hospital on the other side of the world. If he should think that this will keep him in my good graces," she began, then shook her head. "Flattering comments will not help him."

"Fine by me," Miles chuckled. "Though with your wrath looming over his head, perhaps he should STAY in the relative 'safety' of the hospital if he wishes to remain alive."

"At least until I --" she paused a moment. "Until I return to school."

He nodded, his expression somewhat more sober. "Are you missing much in the way of classes by being here?" he inquired softly.

"A couple days. I can make it up." She watched his face for a moment. "If it was NEWT year, I'd be buggered."

He nodded. "Indeed," he agreed. "I suppose that if I were any sort of 'good influence', I'd tell you to go back to school as soon as possible. But..." he paused and took a slow sip of wine. "I'm not."

Pansy traced the rim of her wineglass with one finger. "If I go back tomorrow, I should make it back in time for Monday classes," she said quietly.

"It's up to you... though I won't keep you TOO long," he told her carefully. Just for a bit. Not too long that he'd not be able to let go of her.

She graced him with a smile devoid of snark before taking another sip of wine. Staying .. as much as she wished she could, as much as she missed him .. was not an option. Unless she wanted to be just another sop-minded debutante in a white dress, and she had long decided that her destiny lay elsewhere.

They finished the meal in a sort of preoccupied but companionable silence, and he stood up, holding out his hand. "Shall we go?"

"I think so," she murmured, taking his hand before rising also.

He hadn't asked her where she was staying, but decided silently that she'd be far safer with him in a foreign country than alone in some inn. There was room enough in his flat, surely. Laying Muggle Chinese currency on the table, he led her out of the restaurant and to a secluded alley, where he Apparated them away.

Maybe it was the wine, or the fact that she hadn't yet received her Apparation license, or his close proximity. Whatever the cause, she was slightly unsteady on her feet as they arrived ... wherever it was. Her ill-at-ease reminded her that she was just a schoolgirl, out of her element, in a foreign country. Her heart gave an erratic little twinge, of the kind she hadn't felt since the early days after her sister's death.

He caught her securely around the waist as she stumbled a bit forward when they landed. "Well, this is my flat," he told her. "I don't have fancy art or flowers or such hanging about the place, but... "

It was exactly the kind of lodging she had come to associate with Miles, having visited his flat a few times during his sojourn in Hogsmeade. "It's fine," she said softly. "Quite you."

He smirked. "I didn't want to leave you alone in some inn somewhere, in a foreign country," he explained. "I'm fairly sure there's room enough here for you to stay."

"Thank you," she murmured absently.

"I didn't think that... after the ball, this would be the next time I saw you," he told her in a quiet voice. "I'd planned to return to England for a few weeks in the summer, for sure, but..."

"I daresay you hadn't planned getting on Mouldy the Third's bad side, either," Pansy offered.

"Qin Shi Huang Di," he said wryly, his lips quirking into a grin as he led her towards the couch and sat down next to her. "But... indeed not."

"And I had not planned on visiting China." Her voice was resolute, but distant. "I couldn't abide the thought of you stuck in hospital, alone, simply because your partner is a stupid git."

"I survived," he told her gently. "And... all things considered, I AM glad you're here." He idly tucked a strand of her hair away from her face.

"I'm rather glad I made the trip," she offered, risking a glance into his own face.

"I suppose I should confess that I have missed you," he remarked.

"You said it several times by owl," she pointed out.

"Just re-emphasizing a point that might or might not have been made clear," he said impishly, raising his eyebrows.

She reached out one hand to touch his hair, brown locks her fingers remembered in snatches of dreams. Without knowing exactly how she managed to do so, in the space of two heartbeats she had both arms around him and her face resting in the hollow between neck and shoulder.

His hands rubbed in light circles on her back, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "I could go for a few hours, just holding you like this," he whispered into her ear.

The thought that she could easily put up with it for much longer than that pushed to the forefront of her mind. Instead of uttering it, she simply nodded and tightened her hold.

He held her closer, kissing her hair and putting the knowledge that she'd have to leave in a few days at the most out of his mind for the time being.

She felt his lips on her hair, and some bit of restraint that had held in place while he remained in hospital and after, at dinner, snapped in two. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his face before pressing her lips to his.

She tasted of wine and the meal they'd shared, her lips soft and warm on his. Locking his arms around her slim waist, he kissed her back, the way her eyes glittered for a moment before the kiss imprinted on his mind.

Merlin and Circe, but she'd missed him. Every morning she'd seen Blaise and Millie together, or each time she'd spoken with Draco and he had that expression on his face, a little ache had settled in the pit of her stomach and she'd realized just how highly she thought of the young man in her arms. It was gone now, and she lifted one hand to tangle in his hair as she deepened the kiss possessively.

His fingers tightened around her robes in surprise when her lips parted his, what had started out as a simple kiss grew far more fervent in the space of a few seconds. He could feel her fingers weaving into his hair, bringing their faces even closer together.

Awareness of his reaction seeped into her mind, and the kiss ended abruptly. Her eyes tracked each movement of his face as she pulled back. "What is it?"

"I've missed you more than I thought," he murmured a bit hazily, green eyes meeting deep blue ones as his fingers carefully traced the contours of her face, taking in dewy lips and flushed cheeks.

It took the horrid, wrenching feeling that she'd been doing something wrong several moments to fade from her stomach. "Oh," she mumbled weakly.

He pulled her close once again, until she was securely enveloped in his arms. "If this continues, I'll forget to ever let you go," he whispered into the crown of her head.

"By all means," she replied.

"Don't tempt me, witch," but it was spoken in a jesting sort of tone, even if his eyes were piercing as they stared into her face, then down at her hands. Taking one, he brushed a kiss across the knuckles.

Don't tempt me, witch. The words went straight to her heart, and she disentangled herself from his embrace. "Then perhaps now's a good time for me to find the ladies'," she said softly as she rose to her feet.

"Second room to the left, down that hall," he pointed out, straightening somewhat on the couch. Her hair was mussed and shimmered in the light.

Her mind was a riot of thoughts and emotions as she made her way to the bath, running the water in the sink. Frustration at the fact that he seemed to be content with this uncertain state they'd found themselves in ... together or not? She was sure that he liked her, yes, but not certain in the way she was certain, as she'd looked down into a face that was deathly still, that she loved him.

Did his mandate not to tempt him stem from some desire to keep that ambiguity? She didn't know, but after everything they had been through, she was determined to learn the answer.

He remained on the sofa, feeling slightly restless and staring down the direction where she'd gone. He had meant it when he told her not to tempt him... and he reminded himself that she was merely here for an unexpected visit.

She opened the door to the bath silently, and slipped into the room she'd passed on her walk from the living room. Miles' bedroom, decorated much in the same style as the rest of the flat -- in no way at all. She made a slow circuit of the room, stopping to give herself a glance in his mirror, and to run a hand across the neat row of clothing hanging in his closet.

Her progress stopped at material that felt familiar under her hands, and her eyes darted to the cupboard, registering that her hand had found his old Slytherin Quidditch jumper. She'd never worn one herself, but she'd fawned over Draco after enough matches to recognize the knit by touch. She removed this jumper from its resting place, her fingers tracing the House crest on front, and the name stitched onto the back. It made her think of lost time and opportunity, and she scowled at the shirt even as her eyes prickled with tears she was determined to keep back.

He was starting to wonder a bit, as she had not returned from the loo. A bit uneasily, he stood up to see if she were coming down the hall.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. She wanted to press the issue, but perhaps if he couldn't feel .. as much as she, it wasn't worth the effort. She sank down on the edge of his bed and stared at the jumper in her hands.

Surely this was enough time for her to be in the loo... standing up and taking a few steps forward, he called out her name.

But Pansy was too lost in thought to hear it. Her mind had replayed several key moments from the past year - facing Saint Potter in dueling, fighting with Lavender at the entrance to the Great Hall, the Warringtons' memorial, seeing Draco so beaten in the Hospital Wing, a trip to the Ministry .. her sister's death. "I'm done," she told the jumper as though it might possibly care about the suffering of a seventeen-year-old girl. "I've had enough."

"Pansy? Are you all right?" came his voice once again, slightly louder.

Her head snapped up. She set the jumper aside on the duvet, and stood carefully. "Of course," she said automatically. "Just thinking."

"About what?" his voice sounded closer. "Are you still in the loo?"

She walked to the door to his room. "Just thinking that perhaps I've overstayed my welcome. Now that you're returned to health, I don't really belong here, do I."

"I'd like you to," he confessed suddenly. "If you didn't have such things as school... then I'd keep you here with me forever."

A few steps more and she was staring into his face in consternation. "Excuse me?"

His eyes were earnest as they stared down into hers. "I meant what I just said," he told her in complete seriousness.

"You couldn't possibly," she whispered.

He took her hands in his, his longer, tanned fingers lacing together with her slim, pale ones. "I thought you knew," he murmured softly. "But... in case you didn't, I suppose I should tell you that I love you. That's... the simplest way I could put it."

They were the words she'd been aching to hear for months, and yet .. it didn't make sense. "Why hold me at arms' length, then?" she asked.

"Because you're still young," he dropped her hands to cup her face, his eyes utterly sincere as they stared beseechingly into hers. "I can't risk you regretting... fleeing back to school and your life before me... and live knowing that I'd ruined you and taken something that you had never really meant to give. I didn't want to lose you."

"How could I possibly?" she queried in a hoarse whisper. "You spoiled the possibility of anyone else the night you took me in and let me stay .. you might as well have labeled me yours with one of Umbridge's quills then. I don't WANT anyone else. Why would I regret it?"

She suddenly found herself ensconced in his arms once more, his face buried in her fair hair. "Well, I thought... you grew up with certain expectations and..." he trailed off, and pulled back a slight bit to smile wryly at her. "Never mind." Leaning down, he kissed her again.

Simply thinking about what had just transpired in the last five minutes made Pansy feel slightly light-headed. He loved her. A little well of warmth bubbled up in her chest and she smiled against his lips, even as she snaked her arms around his waist.

Somehow, in between long, deep kisses, they had both backed into his room again. Miles was honestly unsure whether she had pulled him in, or he'd pushed her... but all that mattered was that the back of her knees were at the edge of his bed and neither of them, somehow, seemed to have any intention to stop.

She settled onto the duvet, and pulled him down next to her. Reclining against his pillows, she occupied several minutes with a thorough kiss, snuggling close into his chest. All awkwardness had disappeared, leaving in its place contentment.

His eyes darkened intensely as he stared down at her, her golden hair fanning out on his pillowcase, a peaceful smile on her face as she lay there. But there was no uncertainty in her gaze, and before he bent his head to kiss her again, he'd returned her loving smile.

She let one finger trace over his features when the need for breath again imposed itself. Across his forehead and cheeks, and down to his lips where it stopped to be kissed before her hands went to the fastenings of his robes. Her brow furrowed as her fingers worked at them.

His fingers roamed from her face, sliding through her hair, down her back to her waist, toying with the bottom hem of her blouse. A few inches up, and his fingertips skimmed bare, warm skin, soft and pale as the petals of the blossoms he'd sent her a few months back. "You're so beautiful," he said softly.

Her cheeks pinked. "I have a confession to make," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I've loved you since January," she said slowly. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

He felt an odd clench in his chest. "If it makes you feel any better, I've felt the same for you for quite a while, too," he whispered, dipping his head to bury his lips in her neck. "But... now, at least we know."

She nodded silently. Now that she knew, there would be no turning back.

The next moments were a blur of kisses and fabric of different types scattering and moving out of the way, and then skin on skin. He was careful with her, because if there was anyone who deserved his love, it was her. Her eyes were full of a trust for him alone the whole time, and afterwards, as both of them tried to calm their racing hearts, he pulled her into his arms, slowly stroking her damp hair.

Pansy settled her head on his chest, her ear pressed next to his heart. The triphammer rhythm was soothing, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence. "Are you all right, then?" he asked in a low voice as he caressed her warm, bare back.

"Gods, I .. yes." One arm snaked itself about his waist.

He felt himself beginning to smile, as he laced his fingers through hers. "That's good to hear. No hatred coming, then?"

"Not now, not tomorrow, not eighty years hence." She paused for a moment. "Unless you neglect to owl."

"By the time you finish the school year, your roommates will know the bird on sight," he told her seriously. "And might also be intimately acquainted with the goings-on in this part of China."

"Let them. A little exposure to the rest of the world would do them all some good." She fought back a yawn, but failed.

He smiled indulgently down at her head, and pulled the covers up over them. "Very well... but you seem sleepy."

"Indeed," she replied. She craned her neck back until she could kiss him properly .. this young man who had opened up his arms, and heart, and bed to her. Another wave of warmth radiated from her chest, and she snuggled closer to him under the coverlet.

"Think you'll sleep well?" he gently kissed her forehead, the brush of lips mollifying rather than passionate now as he continued to rub her back in soothing circles.

"Curled up with you, in your bed? I think it would be impossible not to." Her eyes fluttered shut, and the arm around his hips tightened.

"Glad to be of service somehow," he said wryly, shifting somewhat so that both of them were in a comfortable position.

"Prat. I traveled halfway around the world for this," she said. Then mumbled, "and I would probably sell my soul to be able to do it regularly."

"You're not going to sell your soul," he told her firmly, "because I've every intention of keeping it for myself. And... as for doing it regularly, it shall happen someday."

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, the last words she spoke before she succumbed to the pull of sleep.

He kissed her cheek gently, and, for once, fell asleep smiling.

[heavily edited due to change of rp situations]

raven_in_flight — Mon, 27 Sep 2004 18:32:56 GMT

Ever since the close call that she and Pansy had had a mere two weeks ago in Hog's Head, the pub in question had been made off-limits by school rules, and visitors from Hogwarts to the wizarding village were to remain in other places.

Cho's job this week was merely to make sure, towards the end of the visit, that the visiting students had abided by the rule.

The Ravenclaw Head Girl made her quiet, solitary way into the darkened pub, her cloak drawn close around her and her face pensive. Last time, she hadn't been alone.

But Pansy was in China, gone to be with the young man she loved... Cho shivered slightly as she paused at the door of the pub. In the event that she would face off with a Death Eater, her chances of survival weren't very good.

She edged inside the establishment and made her way towards the bar, asking the bearded bartender very quietly if any Hogwarts students had entered that day. The man replied that he didn't recall, and Cho nodded, deciding to wait for only a few minutes to make sure that no one from school was present before she would return to Hogwarts. She requested a small mug of butterbeer.

...And heard the sound of footsteps behind her, the unsteady, heavy gait of someone who was deep in his cups, and a gravelly, drunken voice asking for another shot of Bourbon.

Cho froze, her spine turning to ice. She recognized the voice all too well-- only a fornight ago it had raged against blood traitors and threatened vengeance against those who no longer supported the Dark Lord.

Forcing her brain to kick in, her hands tightened around her mug and she gazed down into the golden, bubbly surface of her drink, hoping that Delano Moon did not recognize her.

"Whassa pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

Cho's eyes widened, and she stared at the Death Eater in surprise. Apparently, he did not recognize her, but he had unmistakably just addressed her.

"Nothing... just waiting for someone," she forced her voice to be calm. Moon's eyes were starting to become glassy, and his leer was unfocused due to the alcohol he'd drunk. Cho suddenly got an idea, of a possible way to escape. "Would you like another drink?"

"On'y if ye 'ave it with me," Moon declared. Cho nodded, and lifted her butterbeer. "I'll have mine... and you can have yours." She turned towards the bartender and laid a shiny galleon on the table. "A shot of the strongest liquor you have for him, please," she whispered.

The bartender didn't ask questions, and pocketed her galleon. Moon downed the drink she purchased as she took a sip of her own butterbeer, and she bought him another.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the inebriated Death Eater, tongue loosened by the alcohol, started ranting about those shameful, filthy purebloods-- worse than the Muggle vermin they loved-- who betrayed their blood to marry Muggles and Muggleborns. Cho nodded automatically, her gaze focused on the bar and the tattered sleeve of the Death Eater that undoubtedly concealed a Dark Mark, and wondered when she would be able to free herself THIS time. The clock on the wall started striking eight-- curfew, and she quickly purchased one final drink for the Death Eater with the last of her money. The small, feminine hands clenched around the almost-empty butterbeer glass were white and clammy-- the carriages would be leaving soon.

Meanwhile, at the door of the establishment, three men-- two handsome young blokes perhaps in their early twenties, stood with an older companion. "Think he's in there?" one of the younger men asked, turning to his companions.

The older man, a Quidditch player for the Falmouth Falcons, nodded grimly. "We tracked him down to here." He renewed the spell, nodding in satisfaction at the golden glow emanating from his wand that led towards the interior of the pub. "He's in there all right."

"We nee' more pretty girls li' you at camp," Moon slurred, downing his last shot of firewhiskey. Cho forced herself to smile, fluttering her eyelashes for effect. The Death Eater laughed, seeming to choke on the lingering taste of alcohol in his throat, and slumped over, unconscious.

The petite Ravenclaw sighed in audible relief and rubbed her temples with her icy fingers. Picking up her wand with a shaky hand, she levitated the man away to a table in a secluded corner, setting him gently down on the seat so that he would not wake. She bit her lip before muttering a memory charm.

Unbeknowest to her, the three men who had been at the door had witnessed her movements.

Oliver's eyes were wide as he watched the familiar girl, her eyes betraying terror and exhaustion, levitating a full-grown man to a chair far away from her. But it was Roger who acted first, for once. The former Ravenclaw broke into a run as Cho put down her wand, and with little ceremony, pulled her into his arms.

"Bloody hell," he whispered into her hair, feeling her stiffen, and finally collapse into his embrace when she realized who it was. "Cho Chang, what in the world are you doing here?!"

"Roger," came her muffled voice against his chest. "Oh Merlin, you're here..." She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. "Thank GOD you're here..."

The other patrons of the place watched with interest for a while, and then looked away, minding their own business. To them, the little episode with the pretty girl and the sleazy-looking fellow now made sense-- she was waiting for her boyfriend, and he had been bothering her, finally drinking himself into oblivion. Roger kept his arms around her, leading her outside the pub, and his companions followed-- Moon would be in no state to talk or even move for several hours.

"What on earth is going on, Davies?" Roger's oldest companion demanded, staring suspiciously at the girl in Roger's arms. "Who is she?"

Cho pulled herself slightly away from Roger, far enough that she could see the person, but not out of Roger's arms. Her gaze turned curious. "Elric Morecock from the Falcons-- you're one of the Beaters, up for captain after Bartleby retires," she recognized him.

"Keep up with Quidditch, eh?" the older man gave her a questioning look.

Cho finally managed a smile. "I'd have to... I play it in school."

"Seeker for Ravenclaw," Oliver explained to Morecock. "Girlfriend of Davies, here."

"And what are you doing here?"

"Checking to make sure that no students have ventured over," Cho said softly. "It's off-limits these days, because... well, I'm sure you saw him." She meant, of course, Delano Moon.

The three men quickly exchanged glances. "Moon, the Death Eater," they said almost in unison.

"Yes, him," Cho answered.

"How do you know him?" Morecock demanded.

"I don't," Cho said quietly. "Or... that is to say, it was an unfortunate run-in. I'd seen him here last fortnight, which is why the place is now off-limits to students though I have to check before curfew to make sure that none of them have ventured in anyway--- Head Girl duties--- but he had been raving about blood traitors and recruitments and the like last time." Cho's face was pale. "I thank my stars that he wasn't sober enough to recognize me this time."

Roger's arms tightened around her waist, his eyes bright with worry. She took a deep, slightly shaky breath. "He... accosted me tonight. I didn't want him to sober up and realize who I was-- I knew that in a duel, he would most likely win. I... I bought as many shots of firewhiskey as I could afford with what money I had in my pocket and he drank them all."

"Clever," Morecock grudgingly admitted. Cho gave him a tight smile.

"What are YOU guys doing here?"

For a moment, no one answered. Roger and Oliver shot each other uneasy looks. They had NOT expected to run into here on this mission.

Cho's arms crossed over her chest. "Rival Quidditch players, and yet you all seem close... is there something you're not telling me?" Her eyes, slightly hurt, gazed from one face to another.

Roger looked at Oliver. "We can let her know, right?"

"How do you know she's trustworthy?" Morecock said suspiciously.

"Don't her actions tonight prove that already?" Oliver asked. "She's a brave and clever lass to take on that bloke alone, you know."

"Very well."

"Look," Roger finally said to Cho. "This isn't the place to discuss, though... I'll walk her home-- it's past curfew-- and I'll tell her there."

slythprincess — Mon, 27 Sep 2004 03:17:44 GMT

It had been thirty-eight hours since Pansy had walked into the Unknown Curses wing of the magical hospital where Miles had been brought after his idiot of a partner had unleashed the ages-old wrath of Quan Shi.. Emperor Mouldy the Third, she thought bitterly. Thirty-eight hours without a meal that wasn't hospital food of dubious quality, or without a full night's rest somewhere horizontal. She was keeping awake with cold water and the occasional walk down to the end of the ward and back, but even these methods were failing.

She set her cup down on the small side table under the window next to the cot where he lay. His countenance was no longer as frighteningly pale and still as it had been the moment she'd first walked into the ward. Granted, he was still as pale and still as he had been, but it wasn't as shocking anymore. The mediwizards, in their broken English, were still positive that he would make a full recovery if only given enough time.

It was approaching four in the afternoon, and in another hour, Miles was scheduled to be checked up on by the medical authorities. Through the plain drapes, a few shafts of sunshine shown in, illuminating the still young man on the bed, his hands clasped over his chest.

She brushed her fingers over his forehead and cheeks, murmuring a quiet admonition to wake up, already. There was no sign of returning awareness, however, and she gave his hands a gentle squeeze before she settled back into the chair by his cot. Pulling her legs up in front of her and resting her feet on the seatcushion, she tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them. It wasn't a comfortable position by any means, and yet she'd been awake so long that she could not stop her eyelids from fluttering closed and her mind from slipping into unconsciousness .. just for a moment ...

Gradually, the occupant of the bed came back to consciousness, a soreness pervading his limbs as his eyes flickered slowly before opening. They snapped to alertness, though, at a head of fair blonde hair... and a slender body... curled up on a nearby chair. Pansy?! What was she doing here?!

Carefully, trying not to wince, he reached over, covering one of the small hands curved around her knees with his own.

She startled awake at the touch. Green eyes stared back at her, and the hand that held hers was weak but warm. Her own eyes pricked with tears even as she graced him with an exhausted smile. "Finally."

"Where am I?" he asked, a bit hoarsely. The last thing he remembered was a stone chariot springing to life... and that was certainly not here. "And what are you doing here?" Noticing the glimmer in her eyes, he frowned slightly, raising his hand to brush his fingertips lightly against her cheek. "And... what's the matter?"

"You are in a hospital in Xi'an," she murmured, "and I am going to KILL your idiot partner."

"How long have I been here?" he asked quietly, still staring at her. "And... you? When did you come?"

"I'm not sure how long you've been here, exactly, as I'm not entirely capable of effective communication. I have been here," she consulted her watch, "thirty-eight hours and twenty-five minutes, and I was aware that you'd been hurt for some time before my arrival." She raised one hand to capture his fingers, and bring them to her mouth to brush a kiss over.

He moved his hand a moment later to tenderly caress her fine blonde hair. "You must be missing school... however did they let you leave?"

"I AM seventeen," she replied softly. And added after a moment, "And I had help."

"Help?"

"My father arranged my travel," she said simply.

Miles recalled a brief, tense conversation he'd had with the elder Parkinson a few months back, and nodded slowly. "And... how long are you staying?"

"I'm not certain. Much depends on how quickly you get out of this place," she said, attempting to lighten her tone.

"I'd say then that I would remain here as long as possible to keep you here... but that wouldn't be fair," he remarked, before taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Gods, I've missed you so much..."

Pansy disentangled her legs and arms then, and rose from her seat only long enough to sit down on the edge of Miles' cot. She looked into his face with expressive eyes. "Well, I'm here now," she murmured, "and if you scare me like this again, I WILL hex you for it. AND bloody Richardson."

"I'll try to avoid it in the future," he said dryly, before giving her a soft smile. "It's still a bit hard to believe that you're actually HERE..."

"Me either, but that may be because I'm starting to hallucinate from sleep deprivation." She teased, but he could see the fatigue in her face. Her voice softened considerably. "I couldn't not come to you."

He shook his head, reaching up to cup her soft cheek with his hand. "My brave, beautiful girl," he murmured. "How've YOU been faring these past few days?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied, startling herself by realizing that it was so. "I haven't slept in a few days, and I suppose it's telling that even these lumpy cots are starting to look quite enticing."

He sighed, one arm wrapping loosely around her waist. "Don't get sick on my account, sweetheart," he shook his head.

"Not sick. Just tired," she murmured. "Which can be rectified."

"You should sleep," he told her. "I'm fine. Especially with you here. But you need your rest."

She leaned forward and dropped a chaste kiss in the center of his forehead. "I happen to agree with you."

He abruptly pulled her back down, steadfastly ignoring the residual soreness of his limbs, and pressed his lips to hers for a brief but amorous kiss. "Then you should sleep. Even if it's on a lumpy cot. At least until I can leave this place and find somewhere better for you."

"Are you suggesting that I should scandalise all of the people who have been caring for you by sleeping in your bed?" she queried, a glimmer in her eyes.

"If they inquire, I'll simply tell them that you are nu peng you and wo ai ni," he remarked lazily.

"Did you just call me a scarlet woman, Miles?"

"Nothing of the sort," he told her. "I promise."

She gazed down at Miles for a moment more with searching eyes .. but the idea of sleep, in something closely resembling an actual bed, was far too enticing. She straightened the hem of her jumper and brushed a wrinkle out of her trousers before she slipped her feet out of her shoes and snuggled against him.

He tilted his head and brushed his lips against her cheek. "Rest," he told her gently. "I'm right here with you."

Muggle Soc

deantastic — Sun, 26 Sep 2004 22:25:14 GMT

"Damn!" Mandy swore under her breath upon receiving her quiz from her Muggle Studies professor.To most the grade on it wouldn't seem bad. But an over achiever, Mandy was frustrated. Her mark barely registered as "acceptable" not near her usual string of "Oustandings" and "Exceeds Expectations." Though she hated to admit it, Muggle Studies was by far her worst class, yet it was the one she knew she couldn't give up. Not for her NEWT level courses next year.

Jasmine smiled at her own "Exceeds Expectations" score and shrugged. She knew she could've done better, but lately her mind certainly wasn't on her studies as they should've been. She heard the oath from behind her and gave the Ravenclaw a sympathetic smile. "That good, huh?"

She frowned and held up her "Acceptable" for Jasmine Dorny to see. "Impressive, right?"

"It's not a 'Poor'," Jasmine said with a small grin.

The brunette paled at the thought. Never in her life had she gotten a 'Poor,' though it seemed she was well on her way. "I just don't understand why I am such a twit when it comes to this," she muttered under her breath.

Jasmine frowned. "I don't think it's that dire, Mandy."

She pointed to Jasmine's "Exceeds Expectations." "I want to do well," she said simply. An understatement. School... classes... creative thought and reasoning were all the things Mandy was good at, and not much else. It was hard not to blow something this simple out of proportion.

"But I don't think it's fair to call yourself a twit at it," Jasmine said kindly. "What exactly is the problem?"

"I don't even know. It's just grasping certain concepts... Some of the cultural divisions in the Muggle world." She frowned. "I don't know what the matter is, maybe I just need to do more revision."

"Revision? It was a quiz!"

Mandy sighed but half-smiled. "As in studying."

Jasmine blushed and chuckled. "I knew that . . ."

"Well," Mandy piped up after a long moment of silence, "I'm open to suggestion?"

Jasmine looked up at the ceiling in thought. "What about a tutor? You know, someone who could help you with that?"

Though pride kept her from saying or admitting it before, the thought had crossed her mind. "Well... who?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I don't know . . . Dean?"

Mandy turned and looked a few rows over to where the Gryffindor boy was seated, staring peacefully toward the front of the classroom while a few of his mates said something to him. He did get excellent marks in the course as far as she knew, but... "I dunno. He might mind it."

The Hufflepuff rolled her eyes. "He's one of the nicest blokes ever, and he's very smart in this course, considering he's from a Muggle London family. I would, but I get tripped up on the different factions of Asian families . . ."

"When is it appropriate to ask?"

"After class, maybe?"

"All right, I--" They were cut off, however, by a sharp look from their instructor who clearly was ready to proceed with the class. Jasmine and Mandy sat forward silently. Mandy took out her quill to take notes, darting slightly anxious glances in Dean's direction. She was usually the one *doing* the tutoring, how was she supposed to ask for a tutor?

Oh well. So long as he didn't laugh, she'd survive it.

An hour later, the class was dismissed and Jasmine tapped Mandy's desk. "I'll introduce you two if you want . . ."

Mandy offered a small, grateful smile. "Please."

Jasmine smiled and walked Mandy to Dean, who was busy filling his satchel with his books. "Thomas," Jasmine said with a grin.

Dean looked up and grinned. "Hey, Jazz!" He gave her a one armed hug and a kiss on the temple, and Jasmine rubbed her hand over his bald head.

"I still can't believe you cut it all off!"

Dean shrugged. "You know I'm a low maintenance kind of guy . . ."

Mandy watched their friendly interaction quietly holding her books at her waist. She patiently waited for Jasmine's introduction.

"Oh! There is a reason why I'm here, actually," Jasmine said, waving Mandy towards them. "Do you know Mandy Brocklehurst?"

Mandy politely extended her hand.

Dean smiled politely and held out his hand. "I know you're bloody smart! Nice to meet you."

She blushed ever so slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you too."

Dean smiled a bit wider. "So . . ."

"Oh," Mandy couldn't help her cheeks flushing now. "I've come to ask if you have a bit of extra time on your hands."

Jasmine took it from there. "She needs some help in the class, and since you seem determined to make us look like complete idiots when it comes to British Muggle society, I told her you'd be the best person for the job. Do you mind?"

Dean brushed the comment away. "You're not an idiot Jasmine, and neither are you, Mandy. My goodness, if I make you feel like--it doesn't matter. Of course I'd help you."

Still slightly embarrassed, she grinned anyway. "Thanks."

Dean smiled. "No problem. What exactly's the problem?" he asked as they left the classroom.

Mandy sighed. Of course it all came back to that question, the very question she was having trouble answering for herself. "I have trouble seeing the parallels between the two worlds, I think," she finally said. "For some reason I can't connect them... Which makes grasping what ever concept that much more difficult."

Dean snorted and nudged Jasmine with her shoulder. "Well, you could look at either one of us and see how they're connected!"

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Forgive my friend. It seems "corny" is a prerequisite for being a Gryffindor . . ."

Dean laughed. "And 'lack of athletic skills' seems to be a prerequisite for being a 'Puff!"

Jasmine blanched but pinched his side, blowing an air kiss at Dean's indignant yelp.

Mandy blushed further but tipped her chin up almost defiantly. The entire act of aquiring a tutor was hard enough, but if he was going to make a joke out of it... "I know it's stupid. By all rights, I shouldn't have any trouble. But I am."

Dean slowed, touching Mandy's shoulder briefly. "I'm sorry. I certainly didn't mean to offend. I just meant you have two people here who live in both worlds. You know, if you do have specific questions, you can ask us . . ."

She shook her head, "I should apologize, I'm being sensitive. Swallowing my pride and all . . . takes quite a bit of work." She smiled slightly.

Dean gave a half smile. "Don't worry about it. I understand. Just know I won't make you feel dumb or anything. Who knows--you'll probably end up teaching me a few things!"

Mandy laughed out right. "I'm sure," she said with a smirk.

"Good! Well, I have to be off to my next class, but I'll talk to you later about meeting times and such." Dean moved on down the hall with a last wave.

"Yes, sure." Mandy nodded and smiled, waving briefly. "Thanks," she called out as he disappeared around the corner before turning to Jasmine with a smile. "I owe you one."

Jasmine sucked her teeth and waved away the comment. "Girl, please, all you need to do is stop talking like the world's gonna end! You'll do fine in the class, Mandy. You're an excellent student."

She smiled slowly, then laughed and shook her head. "See you next class, Jasmine."

"Definitely. Have a good rest of the day!"

"You too." Mandy turned and hurried to the next period.

mles_montague — Sun, 26 Sep 2004 02:32:08 GMT

"Calm down damnit," hissed Angelina to no one as she studied her reflection in the mirror and once again undid her hair having botched the spell. It was her third attempt and her last. Now, instead of trying to manipulate it into elegant, she brushed it back neatly and twisted it into a simple bun, hands shaking ever-so-slightly all the while. She didn't want to look too casual . . . after all, this was the first time she'd ever meet Solan's parents. She was determined to make a good impression.

Though she was on time, she was completely nervous and felt late. She'd gone through her entire closet (the evidence of which was the mess of clothes strewn about her bed and the floor) and had finally settled on a simple, modest black dress that ended at her knees.

Solan arrived precisely on time, and knocked softly on the door to her flat. In truth, he was somewhat apprehensive himself-- he had not communicated, really, with his family in a very long time.

But it would be entirely TOO unseemly to miss his father's 50th birthday.

She jumped slightly at the sound of gentle knocking on her door. The young woman took another moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, checking for imperfections. Naturally, she was dissatisfied, but there was no changing now. So instead, Angelina picked her clutch off her bed and went to the door.

Solan was standing at the other side of the door, in dark dress robes. As usual, he brought her flowers-- this time, fragrant, milky-white gardenias. He gave her a small smile when he saw her. "You look beautiful."

She returned the smile, but her nerves were obvious, there was no hiding it. "I just hope I don't make a fool of myself . . ." she murmured, kissing his cheek and turning to put the flowers in water before they left.

"It doesn't matter... and I don't think you'll make a fool of yourself," he told her, putting an arm around her waist and giving her a gentle squeeze.

Sighing, Angie turned to face him. "I just hope they like me."

He nodded, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. "They'd be fools not to."

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment while she exhaled and tried to slow the butterflies in her stomach. She looked up at him again and gave a weak smile, holding her purse tight. "So then . . . shall we?"

"Yes, let's," he took her hand in his and kissed the knuckle lightly as he led her out of the flat. The portkey, shaped like a porcelain teacup with a broken handle, was placed by one of the street lamps. He picked it up, and then they were gone.

The familiar insides-turned-out feeling came over her and lasted only a moment. They were no longer standing outside her flat building, but rather outside a house more grand than any she'd ever seen before with her own eyes amongst a crowd of people she had never seen, and she was more self-conscious than ever. She instincually held Sol's hand tighter.

He recognized some of the people-- mostly parents of former housemates. Slowly, he led Angelina up the cobblestone walk that led to the house that he'd not returned to for years. It hadn't changed much since his youth.

"Where are we going?" she asked him under her breath as the walked through the crowd.

"Inside," he told her in equally hushed tones. "Unless you want to mingle for a bit longer?"

"Inside is fine," she replied quickly.

He nodded, and gave her hand a quick squeeze as they ascended the stone steps that led to the door. An elderly House Elf, collecting calling cards, almost stumbled when it recognized...

"Young Master!" The tray of calling cards brushed the ground as the Elf bowed low.

"Yes," Solan said succinctly. "It's me."

She watched the brief exchange with a slight smile upon her face. Though he hadn't said a thing about the last time he'd been home, the elf reacted as though this were the first time in a long time he'd seen his master.

"Allow Dewey to take your cloak, Young Master," the House Elf carefully set the calling cards upon a nearby chair and turned towards Solan, his bulbous eyes still wide with astonishment. "Master will be so pleased to see Young Master home!"

"Is that so?" Solan remarked neutrally as he relinquished his cloak. The House Elf nodded and bustled to put it away.

Angelina bit down on her lip when Dewey mentioned 'Master,' who could've only been Solan's father. As if the crowd and his home weren't intimidating enough . . . her heart quickened.

Dewey snapped his fingers, summoning a younger House Elf, who apparently reported to him. "Go tell Master and... Mistress," Dewey paused on the last word, before hitting his fingers briefly against the wall, "that Young Master is here."

Angelina flattened the skirt of her dress and looked herself up and down once more to make sure she appeared her best. There certainly was no turning back now.

Within moments, two sets of footsteps, one the quick clicking of high heels, and the other softer, more sedate, came within earshot. A lavishly gowned blonde woman, her lemon-yellow hair elaborately piled over her head, strode down the hallway towards them, followed by a tall, older gentleman with dark hair flecked with gray. Solan's back stiffened slightly at the sight of the woman, but his clasp of Angelina's hand remained firm.

Though the look on Solan's face gave away nothing, she noticed him go slightly rigid when his step mother appeared. And though she didn't look . . . the most friendly, there was no denying the resemblence between Solan and his father, who was simply an older, more worn, similarly dignified version of his son.

"Why, look, Julian," Larissa Montague drawled in a light, syrupy sort of voice, giving a glance to her husband, "It's your son... and some lady friend of his!"

"Father," Solan said coolly, glancing first at the man, before his lip curled slightly as he surveyed the woman. "Larissa."

"Good evening, Solan," Julian Montague greeted gravely. "I am happy to see you... and who is your friend?"

"Angelina Johnson," the younger man replied evenly. "And she's my girlfriend."

Angie offered a slightly shy, polite smile and dipped her head. "I'm so pleased to meet you."

"Charmed," The blonde stepmother drawled, giving her a long look up and down. "I think I read something about you in Witch Weekly, darling. Apparently you play QUIDDITCH?"

The way Solan's step-mother said it and under the woman's critical gaze, she almost wished she had chosen a desk job somewhere instead . . . . "Yes, ma'am, I do."

"Starting Chaser for the Appleby Arrows," Solan cut in, his voice filled with the same patrician, subtle tone of disdain as his stepmother's, but it was certainly not directed towards Angelina. "It's admirable that she's doing something that she enjoys, and has the ambition to succeed, wouldn't you say?"

Larissa gave a slightly sickly-sweet smile. "But of course."

"Excellent that we agree," Solan remarked a bit coldly, before turning away from her.

Angie could not shoot Solan an appreciative look, not when his parents were standing right there, but she did squeeze his hand. "The house looks absolutely wonderful, Mrs. Montague," Angelina said in the brief silence that followed the cool exchange.

"Thank you," Larissa replied airily. "I DO love the spaciousness of a good country estate."

"I can imagine," she said. Angelina looked beyond her to Mr. Montague who stood quietly behind his wife. "Happy birthday, sir."

"Thank you, Miss Johnson," Julian Montague replied, inclining his head slightly. "Speaking of which, supper is about to start. Would you two care to honour us with your presence in the hall?"

Solan nodded curtly, following his father and stepmother back down the hallway. As the two turned around in front of them, he leaned down and gave Angelina a conciliatory kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry about her," he whispered into her hair.

She offered her boyfriend a sincere smile. "Don't worry about it," she replied softly in his ear.

He smiled back and they continued down the corridor into a large dining hall with a chandelier glittering from the high ceiling. Solan was led to sit at the right side of his father, Angelina right next to him. As they sat down, House Elves arranged linen napkins in their laps and poured champagne.

Though Solan's presence was more than comforting, she still felt anxious and the need to prove herself to his parents. It was stupid; Angie knew she simply needed to calm down, but it was easier said than done.

The first course, a fresh green salad with portobello mushrooms, was served to each guest in shallow glass dishes. The House Elves spooned light, aromatic vinaigrette over the greens before backing out of the room.

Polite, quiet conversation took up the table again as the food was served, and the first course passed without incident.

After the first course came soup, followed by the main course of Veal Provencale. One of the men stood up and made a toast to Julian Montague.

Angelina, with everyone else at the table, raised her glass of champagne into the air as a man she didn't know sang the praises of the host.

That toast finished, the host stood and raised his own glass. His gray eyes were solemn as he looked over the faces around the table. "To the friends and loved ones gathered around this table, who have blessed me with their presence tonight." Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his taciturn son. "I thank you for being here... it is not often that I can see all of you."

Everyone simeltaneously rose their glasses higher before taking a collective sip. Angie followed suit, eyes still on Mr. Montague, who stood a moment longer.

"Thank you so much, all of you, for being here," Mr. Montague concluded. "Cheers!"

The rest of the meal passed with Angelina listening quietly at Sol's side to the conversations happening around her, including Mrs. Montague's lavish tales of how she spent her winter holiday, where she bought her gown, and how she planned on spending a small fortune to buy a summer house in Greece soon. Towards the end of supper the soft music that had complimented their meal grew louder, and a few couples departed the dining room for the ballroom.

"Did you have a nice meal?" he asked her softly, standing up from his seat.

She slipped her hand back into his. "It was lovely," she replied as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Your stepmother . . ." she began, a slight grin on her face as the woman passed her on her way into the ballroom, "She certainly is something."

"That's kind of you to say," he said dryly, before smiling at her. "Would you like to dance?"

"I would love to dance." She replied, grinning.

He smiled and led her to the opulent ballroom. Pulling her close, he twirled her around to the slow music. "I'm glad that you came here with me today."

"I'm glad you invited me," Angelina replied, practically beaming up at him. She was finally relaxed, now that she was simply able to focus on him and she no longer felt as though she was under his stepmother or his father's gaze.

"I thought it would have been far more unpleasant," he confessed. "My stepmother hasn't changed at all... but it could be worse."

"I enjoyed myself," she told him as he pulled her close. "Really."

"I'm glad," he whispered, kissing her hair. The song ended, and he gave her a smile. "How much longer do you want to stay?"

Angie grinned and brushed a fallen hair back. "It's up to you, Sol."

"A little while longer is all right," he told her. "I enjoy dancing with you."

They did dance a while longer, her head resting on his shoulder as they swayed back and forth, moving about the room even when other couples departed the floor to move outside to the courtyard.

The last song finished, and he merely held her close for a while, before the sound of a throat clearing made him pull apart. His father was gazing at them from the entrance of the ballroom, his eyes unreadable. But Julian Montague wore a slight smile. "Lovely dancing. Reminds me of when I was young."

Angelina immediately went red, and pulled away from Solan slightly, feeling much like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar, though Sol's father looked kindly upon them. She couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach starting up again.

Julian looked at his son. "Do you think I could deprive you of your friend's company for a few minutes, Solan?" he asked the younger man. "I've not had a chance to talk to her... and perhaps she would like to see the house and grounds."

There was no ungracious way to decline, and it WAS his father's birthday. "Very well," Solan answered finally. "I'll be waiting here."

Angelina took a deep breath and followed Mr. Montague away from Sol and out of the ballroom, more nervous than ever. She opened her mouth to speak, but it felt as though she'd left her voice back in the ballroom. So instead she cleared her throat.

Julian Montague was quiet as they left the ballroom, his footsteps measured and steady next to Angelina's. "Did you go to school with my son?" he asked his companion as they walked past a wide corridor lined with silk tapestries.

"Yes, I did, sir," she replied quickly. "We were in the same year, though not in the same house."

He nodded slowly. "If you don't mind me asking, when did you two become friends?"

Angelina blushed slightly. "In the fall last year. Though we had known each other since our first year of school, our first . . . nonacademic interaction happened last autumn."

"I see," Julian turned a corner, silent in thought for a few moments. "I haven't seen much of my son-- he's been withdrawn since he was a boy." The old man sighed. "I am partially to blame-- but he is happy now." The two of them passed through a door into a large study. On the wall was a portrait of an elegant woman with glossy dark hair and large blue eyes, who peered at Angelina quietly when they entered. Julian smiled benevolently down at Angelina. "He's happier now with you than I have seen him in a long time."

She blushed slightly, unsure of what to say, but smiled up at the man. "Thank you," she murmured, turning her gaze onto the portrait looking down at them.

"That's his mother," Julian Montague remarked, following her gaze. "My first wife."

"She's beautiful," Angelina said softly, sincerely. Realizing that she had uttered it aloud, her cheeks turned red and she glanced up at Solan's father again, "I . . . of course, so is your second wife, she's been a wonderful hostess--"

Julian waved a long, slightly wrinkled but still strong hand. He surveyed Angelina closely for a few moments, before smiling a genuine smile at her. "I will accept the compliment and thank you in her stead... but speaking of Solan's mother," he paused, moving away from her towards an enormous ebony desk, "There is something that I must give to you."

"Oh?" she said, slightly confused. Angelina watched him walk away and retrieve a small black box from one of the drawers.

"Isabella died when my son was still young... still too young," Julian sighed. "But before she passed away, she gave this to me, to keep until the right time." He pressed the box into Angelina's surprised hands. "She told me to give this to the woman that my son would marry someday-- the one woman who made him happy beyond anything and anyone else." His lips curved into a wry, knowing smile. "And even if Solan doesn't know it-- and I rather think he does-- I believe that you would be the best recipient for this."

She inhaled sharply as she opened the box and looked upon a beautiful antique necklace . . . . Her mind had suddenly slowed as she processed what he had said to her . . . and she had to do her best to remember propriety and her manners and not embrace Julian Montague and thank him over and over for what she could understand as his blessing. Finally, smiling wider than she had the entire night, Angelina said quietly, "Thank you, sir."

He grasped her hand in a firm, warm shake, before nodding at her and returning his smile. "No... thank YOU, my dear," he said gently. "You've given happiness to my son."

She held the case in her hand carefully but firmly, her heart pounding as she tried to control the smile on her face. She still wasn't quite sure what to say . . . or how to properly thank him. "If I could only make him half as happy as he makes me . . ." Angelina said, sincerity ringing in her voice.

"You do," he declared. "But I've deprived him of your company for long enough." Politely, he held out his arm for Angelina to take. "It is the best birthday gift a father could have-- to finally see his only son happy and content with his life."

"Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this celebration," said Angie quickly. "It was a great party."

"I am glad that you think so," Julian replied, as they re-entered the ballroom. He drew back. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Johnson."

"The pleasure has been mine, sir," Angelina said, still smiling.

The host nodded, and took his leave, to rejoin the other guests outside. Solan walked up to Angelina and put an arm around her. "So... what did he want?"

She looked up at him, slipping an arm around his waist. "We just had a nice conversation," said Angelina airily, grinning.

He smiled down at her, pressing his cheek to her temple. "So, do you feel less nervous?"

"I feel much better," she replied honestly.

"I'm glad," he murmured against her hair. "I love you and want to see you happy."

"I am happy," she whispered in his ear as they began toward the door. She ran her fingers over the case in her hand and glanced over their shoulders back towars the study where the portrait of his mother had been . . . where she'd received his father's blessing and smiled. She was happier than she'd ever been.

theonlyboot — Sat, 25 Sep 2004 00:18:44 GMT

Lisa laughed as they stepped through the courtyard into the castle.

"So when is this date?" Jasmine asked once inside the Entrance Hall.

"A few weeks." She opened her mouth to continue but noticed a rather familiar face emerge from a classroom nearby. A mischevious grin appeared on her face.

"Then why in the world are you buying an outfit now?" Jasmine asked with a laugh, not realizing the true meaning of Lisa's grin.

"Because." Lisa glanced at Jasmine before turning to look at Terry who was approaching the two girls with his hands in his pockets.

"Because . . ." Jasmine prodded, her attention solely on her coy friend.

"Because," replied Lisa, smirking. "Hullo, Terry. Looking for somebody?"

Jasmine jumped, surprised he was there, and blushed furiously. She his her face in her hands and began to chuckle at her obliviousness. "You're such a bint, Lisa," she muttered.

Lisa grinned and shrugged slightly, looking between her two mates. "Well . . . I should leave you two to . . . whatever it is you do. Lovely afternoon, Jasmine. And I'll see you later, hopefully, Terry."

Jasmine dropped her hands from her face, but stared at the ground, desperately willing her blush to go down before looking at him. In an effort to reassure him she wasn't totally ignoring him, she gave a half-muttered "hello."

Terry smiled and took a few steps toward her, extracting his hands from his pockets. "All right?" he greeted her.

Jasmine finally thought it was safe to look at him, and she did, for a long while. Her heart swelled and so did her smile, and she nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Great," he replied, taking her hand into his. "Where were you today?"

Jasmine shrugged, her smile shrinking to a grin. "Lisa and I went into Hogsmeade . . . apparently she has a date." Her eyes twinkled with mock conspiracy.

He grinned. "Oh, really. Where were you going now?"

Jasmine shrugged and shook her head. "No where in particular. But I'm glad I ran into you."

"Do you want to walk?" he asked, still holding her hand.

"Sure, that's fine."

Terry turned and led her the opposite corridor with no destination in mind. "So what were you doing in Hogsmeade?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Jasmine grinned, leaning against his arm. "Walking, talking, gossipping, shopping, Why? Want to com next time?"

He laughed loudly and squeezed her hand. "No thanks, I think it'd be like breaking some sort of . . . rule, wouldn't it? Invading a day of that sort of thing?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I wouldn't mind so much. I'd get to see you more often."

He squeezed her hand again and they descending a flight of stairs slowly. "It'll be the summer soon."

"And then our seventh year . . . I can't believe it. I feel like I just got here--all confused and scared of magic." She chuckled. "I'm still scared of it in a way; the kind you can't control with a wand especially . . ."

"What do you do for the summer?"

She shrugs and frowns. "I spend a good portion of it in Georgia, actually. Mama likes us to go visit the family, to keep us grounded in our roots and heritage--especially me since I'm so, er, 'different'."

He felt a slight pang in his heart. He wasn't sure where she lived, but did hope they could see each other during the holiday.

She frowned, glancing at him. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head and smiled again. "Nothing." They walked in companionable silence for a long moment before he turned and asked as casually as he could, "So where do you live?"

"I live in Bristol. Why?"

"Well . . ." Suddenly nervous, he rubbed the back of his neck and spoke carefully. "Perhaps sometime I could come and see you. This summer. Or you could come to London and see me."

She smiled. She couldn't help it. "Really?"

"Onlyifyouwantto," he blurted. Then grinned slightly, unable to help the red threatening to come up his neck and onto his face. "If you're not busy. When . . . you're not away."

She stopped walking, yet he continued, so she tugged on his hand, bringing him back to her. "Why wouldn't I want to see you? Don't you hear me complain every time we meet how I never get to see you as often as I'd like?"

He grinned slowly. "Well . . . the summer is two months of time."

She bit her lip, the slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. "I wish I could do this for those two months."

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Terry stared at her face for a moment, bright and smiling, before leaning down and brushing a soft kiss to her lips. "That could be arranged," he said as he pulled back, chuckling lightly.

"You promise? Because really, you have no idea how good it feels to be held by you," she said, half muffled by his jumper.

"God as my witness, Merlin as my keeper," he raised a hand, with a straight face, "I promise."

She giggled, burrowing her face in his chest again. Suddenly she sobered, breathing in his scent. It was clean, and she couldn't particularly place it, but it was uniquely him. One of his arms was around her waist, the other around her shoulders, and she felt so secure . . . so cherished . . .

Jasmine slowly kissed the space above his beating heart in gratitude.

Terry was never one for words, he was never one to speak his feelings, to ramble until he reached his point. Though not the least unsocial, he preferred silence to meaningless chatter. It bothered him that most people asked him to speak more. He liked that Jasmine didn't need him to speak at all.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead and hold her tighter. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered for him that he had never felt this way before. Jasmine was not his first girlfriend, she wasn't his first kiss . . . but this felt new to him. It might as well be his first. And he liked that.

Jasmine felt herself tremble. She couldn't help it; couldn't help the overwhelming sense of something that was coursing through her. She thought it was too soon to call it love, but "like" seemed too trite a word to describe what she was feeling. Since she didn't have the words, she would show them, for it was too overwhelming to keep inside.

She pressed another kiss to his chest, her hand moving from his waist to rub along his back. Her other arm tightened around him, needing to be closer to his warmth and presence.

"Jasmine," he said quietly into her hair. Without hesitation he brought his hands from her waist to her face and gently tipped her chin up to look at him. He stared into her dark eyes, searching for permission. Even through the dark irises, he saw a flicker of something. Offering her a small smile, he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

He was so gentle with her, but Jasmine wanted more. She whimpered against his lip, running her hands up his chest to circle her arms around his neck.

Terry brushed aside a fallen lock of hair and deepened the kiss ever so slightly, tilting her head gently. Their noses brushed together, and he smiled into the kiss. The young Ravenclaw felt her lips part beneath his.

Jasmine gasped in surprise and embarrassment when she felt his tongue touch her lips, and she broke the kiss hesitantly. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked breathlessly, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

He swallowed and opened his eyes, looking into her face before smiling and kissing the corner of her mouth again briefly. "Sorry," he murmured into her.

She shook her head, nuzzling his neck. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm not so experienced at this. But I do want to learn . . ."

Terry stared down at her affectionately. "Slowly," he whispered to her, looking into her eyes. He smiled again and hugged her tight.

She grinned, returning the hug just as forcefully. "Not too slow," she said, then kissed his Adam's apple.

He grinned back at her and bent down, kissing her neck sweetly and briefly. "No, not too slow," he said. Terry took her hand again and looked down the corridor, then back at her. "Would your housemates have my head on a platter if I sat at your table during dinner? Or would you prefer to sit at mine?"

"I honestly don't know or care. Whichever you prefer."

"Let's sit at your table." He grinned. "Maybe there'll be empty space toward the end."

She sighed and linked her fingers through his. "There will be. I generally sit on the end."

"Well then. Mind if I join you for supper?"

She smiled at him, and couldn't resist pressing a light kiss to his lips. "Not at all."

dornjazz — Fri, 24 Sep 2004 23:40:21 GMT

"That never works, though," said Lisa, rolling her eyes as she and Jasmine, clad in Muggle clothes for an all day, self-appointed trip to Hogsmeade for necessary relaxation and 'girl time' (as they had dubbed it), stepped out of the Three Broomsticks, having stopped for a quick lunch. "I've tried it."

Jasmine giggled, hiding her mouth behind the hand that held a hastily-plucked chip she took on the way out. "Lord only knows why . . ."

"Why which? Why it doesn't work or why I tried it?" She grinned.

Jasmine let her laugh ring throughout the open air. "Both, of course!"

The teenage girls walked out onto the main road, strolling aimlessly. "Well, I haven't a clue," Lisa admitted with a shrug.

Jasmine lifted an eyebrow. "Well, you know you're just going to have to start at the beginning so we can analyze your severe lapse in judgment . . ."

Her cheeks went red and she turned her attention to the window of a nearby dress shop. "Look at the time . . . seems like a change of topic's in order . . . ."

Jasmine sniffed good-naturedly. "Change in topic my arse . . ."

"Let's go inside," Lisa said lightly, ignoring Jasmine's comment.

"You need something in here?" Jasmine asked, looking around the store. It was far less intimidating now that there was no Anniversary Ball or the like. The robes and dresses were cut for the summer season--skin and more skin. Jasmine scowled a little, wonder what was wrong with modesty nowadays . . .

"I . . . have a date to go on," Lisa said in a voice she hoped was a bit too low for Jasmine to hear.

"Excuse me? What was that? A date?" Jasmine said with a smirk. She rifled through the racks, highly unimpressed with the selection thus far. "You act like I don't know it's gonna be with Harry or something."

She turned a little red and grinned, picking through the racks. "Well . . . to be honest, we've never really gone a serious date. I mean, the Yule Ball, of course. But not a date date. Not the way you and Terry've gone out . . . what to a jazz club and restaurants and such." She batted her eyes excessively and grinned before picking up a dress and studying it critically.

Jasmine laughed, even as she blushed. "Terry and I have a bit more, erm, flexibility when it comes to that. But you and Harry can spend more time with each other; being on the same floor and all. Heck, I'm sure it's an excursion for just to come all the way down to the dungeons!" She glanced at her friend. "Besides," Jasmine continued, rubbing her thumb over an iridescent sleeve, "it's not like we're official or anything--like you and Harry, I mean . . ."

"First off," said Lisa, raising her eyebrows as she stared at Jasmine from across the room, carrying three dresses, "I bet Terry would jog all seven flights, back and forth, every day to see you. And I don't think he'd notice it was a long walk until he passed out or something. And if being 'official' requires a declaration of 'You're my boyfriend, I'm your girlfriend' then half the couples in this school -- Harry and I included -- wouldn't be 'official.'"

Jasmine gave her a slight grin. "Really?" She felt much better if that were the case.

"Here, this'll only take a moment. But be honest, all right? If they make me look awful or you hate them . . . tell me?"

Jasmine nodded, and waited patiently as Lisa tried on outfits. The first two were a bit . . . unflattering, but the last--a sharp rose-colored summer dress with matching robes--looked smashing on her. "That's the one I think. That color looks so good against your skin tone."

She blushed nervously and regarded her reflection before disappearing into the dressing room and changing back into her clothes. Ten minutes later, they walked out of the shop, Lisa having paid. The dress would be delivered to her room pressed and neat. "Thanks," she said to Jasmine as they emerged on the road again.

She blushed nervously and regarded her reflection before disappearing into the dressing room and changing back into her clothes. Ten minutes later, they walked out of the shop, Lisa having paid. The dress would be delivered to her room pressed and neat. "Thanks," she said to Jasmine as they emerged on the road again.

"But I'd prefer not to." Lisa laughed. "Where to next?"

Jasmine shrugged and shook her head. "I don't really care. But we do have only a little time left, with the early curfew and everything . . ."

She nodded slightly, "You're ready to go back?"

Jasmine shrugged again. "Only if you are."

Lisa nodded slightly and they turned their back to the rest of Hogsmeade, beginning to make the trip up the path back to the castle.

Jasmine bit her lip, thinking about what Lisa said about Terry. She felt her cheeks heat and a grin form on her face--two reaction that couldn't be helped when she thought about the blond Ravenclaw. "Lisa?"

"Mmhmm?"

She took a deep breath, wringing her hands. "How did you know you were in love with Harry?"

Her eyebrows shot up. She hadn't been expecting the question, and couldn't help but turn at look at Jasmine in surprise. "Wow. I -- . . . I, think . . . I think I really, really knew it when my brother was hurt. And I simply didn't know what to do with myself and I tried to shut off from everybody else . . . and he wouldn't let me do that. When I realized that even at my lowest -- in my worst possible state -- he would love me and be with me. That's when I truly understood."

Jasmine nodded, a slight frown her face. "Is it too soon to say that I think I'm in love with Terry, then?"

"Well, that's when I understood my love for Harry. So I guess I didn't answer the question." She chuckled. "I knew I was in love with him when I realized he was a constant presence in my mind. That at times I was more concerned about him than me. When I accepted that it was possible he felt for me the same I felt for him." She took a deep breath and studied Jasmine. "As for whether or not you love Terry . . . well, I can hardly answer that, Jasmine. You're you, you're the only one who'll know."

She nodded again, partially understanding. While she certainly thought of Terry a great deal and, and certainly cared much for his welfare, she was having a hard time accepting the fact he could ever feel for her what she thought she felt for him. Yes, he liked her, fancied her, and thought her beautiful, but what if . . .

She shook her head. "I see," Jasmine said finally.

"Hey." Lisa stopped and put her hands on her hips. "That look."

Jasmine frowned again. "What look?"

"That look." Lisa furrowed her brow. "That one you get whenever you're thinking . . . and whether or not we went for years without spending time together, once upon a time we were *best* mates, and I know that look."

Jasmine shrugged, her arms flopping at her sides. "Does it have to be mutual in order to love someone?"

She smiled slightly. "I wouldn't think so."

Jasmine nodded. "Okay."

They stared at each other in silence, before Lisa sighed and smiled. "Y'know, I may be blowing hot air, but I think you underestimate just how much he cares about you." She paused. "Because he does. A lot."

She was doing it again--smiling and blushing at the mere mention of Terry. "But isn't it too soon?"

"Isn't there some old saying?" laughed Lisa, looping her arm through Jasmine's. "About . . . love not knowing time? Or is that age . . . whichever."

Jasmine nodded and sighed helplessly. "I just don't want to mess this up, Lisa. I've never been so happy . . ."

"You won't mess anything up."

Jasmine nodded again, then smiled. "I haven't so far, anyway--even when I'm at my most insecure, he's there, making me feel so beautiful. Terry makes me feel beautiful, Lisa."

She grinned. "He's a pretty good bloke, I figure. And of course, if he acts like a git, after you're done smacking him about tell me and I'll duff him up or something."

Jasmine laughed, hugging her friend's arm. "I don't think I could bring myself to destroy such a pretty face . . ."

Studying

hermie_j — Fri, 24 Sep 2004 22:30:59 GMT

She mused over a few books in the library, looking at volumes of ancient texts to use in her latest assignment. Her bushy hair was loosely tied back, but some strands were still slightly impairing her vision as she glanced down among the shelves.

"Surely someone hasn't checked it out," she said to herself in bewilderment. Typically this section of the library was seemingly her personal one - she'd never seen anyone venture in or out of the side portion.

The thought of trying Madam Pince's help only briefly crossed Hermione's mind before she dismissed it - ruling it far too optimistic as the librarian tended to be far more preoccupied with scaring first and second years into treating the books like the holy grail.

Hermione sighed, this was not going as she had hoped. She needed it for a particular research for her Charms Theory and the rest of the texts on her list had proven to contain nothing that she was looking for. The missing book was next on her list of books to go through, and since it was gone, Hermione assumed that of course, it would be the one that would have her answers.

"I'll check back on . . . Monday, yes," she reasoned, since the majority of students would check out books on Saturday for essays that were due on Monday. "Until then . . . I suppose I'll just go over my Healing and Mediwizardary notes again since we do have an exam sometime in the near future."

Hermione was disappointed, her plans for this weekend were now not of any use. She went to a small table nearby and picked up her satchel, which had fallen off and its contents spilling onto the floor. She quickly put all of her belongings back and noticed that there was a small piece of parchment that had fallen out of place.

Out of curiosity, she opened it up. It was a note - to her - from Harry and Ron from several years back. "How did that end up in there," she asked herself out-loud, before realizing that as of late, she hadn't been spending much time with either of the boys. Harry had been going off to see a new girlfriend of his - Lisa, was it? - and Ron . . . it was as if Ron didn't exist anymore as she didn't see him at all outside of the few classes that they shared.

Filled with an idea that she was sure - that is, if she could find both of them - that they all would love.

slythprincess — Tue, 21 Sep 2004 02:38:39 GMT

Pansy walked into the Great Hall, extremely late for breakfast. She scanned the length of Slytherin table; anyone truly worth sitting with was budged up in the middle. She contemplated inconveniencing everyone so that she could sit with Draco, but realized that the process would probably take longer than she'd allotted for eating.

She instead waved, and sat down next to a couple of third years at the end of the table.

She hadn't meant to sleep so late, but she'd had odd dreams. She mused over them as she selected sausages from a platter; they'd interrupted her sleep, and kept her up far too late. Damned if she could remember them, though.

Pansy added two pieces of toast to her plate. The toast reminded her that she hadn't seen an owl from Bill. He'd promised to find out more about the rumour he'd heard, but nothing since then. Her stomach twisted uneasily as she hoped his silence meant that there was nothing, nothing for her to worry about.

She tucked into her morning meal, thinking about the assignments that were due, the exams she should have been studying for. She had just picked up a slice of toast when morning mail arrived.

An unfamiliar owl dropped an envelope in her plate, and she stared at the unfamiliar writing for several moments before she picked it up and broke the seal.

Dear Miss Parkinson,

I have found out the names of the cursebreakers who were hit during an expedition in the Qin catacombs of Xi'An. A former Ravenclaw, Alan Richardson, along with a former Slytherin, Miles Bletchley. They are in serious but stable condition in the local wizarding hospital, and are expected to recover fully with time. I hope that you are well.

Yours sincerely,
Bill Weasley

"Oh God," she murmured to no one in particular. The reality of the words on Bill's parchment hit her like a Bludger to the head.

Miles, in a wizarding hospital, in China. Alone. In serious condition. Alone.

It was enough to knock thoughts of exams and assignments right out of her head. In a single moment, she knew that she was going to China. She didn't know how she was going to get there, exactly, but ... she couldn't stay here.

Dad will help me, she thought wildly, then realized that of all of her avenues, this was probably the likeliest to yield success. Her father seemed to truly like him.

She pushed her plate aside, and grabbed her schoolbag. She stopped by the Owlery to post a note, and then made her way back to the Slytherin common room, and its link to the Floo Network.

Cho:

Have received word from China that Miles has been seriously injured. Whatever it is that he and I have, I'm the closest thing to family he has, and I refuse to leave him alone.

I wanted to let someone know where I've gone, without jeopardizing my ability to leave unnoticed. This seemed the most prudent course of action. My father will know how to contact me -- address any post to E. Parkinson, Salisbury.

~Pansy

theonlyboot — Sun, 19 Sep 2004 05:14:37 GMT

Jasmine adjusted the guitar on her back and sighed, walking slowly up to the seventh landing towards the Room of Requirement. It was nearing the end of term, and she had yet to get a song she truly thought was good enough for the final grade. Sure the others she'd worked on showed her progress, but this last composition had to be stellar--definitely Oustanding material. With all the distractions she had the past two weeks--very pleasant ones she may add--Jasmine felt she lost ample time to work on it.

Not today she thought. Jasmine was going to lock herself away in the Room until she at least had a page of decent music to her credit.

Meanwhile, Terry had been in the Room of Requirement for hours now, seated in front of a grand piano that had magically appeared when he realized his need to practice. It had been a while -- he hadn't done a thing since Megan's death . . . he hadn't wanted to -- and as expected, the keys had initially felt strange under his fingertips. Of course, after playing for a while, that had changed, and now he slowly moved through every song he knew by memory, swaying ever so slightly in time to the music as his fingers worked away.

Jasmine's determined gait when she heard the soft music filter down the hall. She gazed at the closed doors of some abandoned classrooms, but knew instinctively the sound wasn't coming from them. Jasmine turned slowly towards the Room, and the door magically appeared before her. Apparently she needed to hear this music . . . needed to see who was playing so impressively.

She approached the door and hesistated. She didn't want to disturb them; didn't want to make them feel embarrassed. Jasmine went back to the time Terry caught her during practice and snickered. That was a most horribly embarrassing moment indeed! But he healed her all right . . .

She shuddered, remembering how his hands were so gentle and kind on her leg, how his touch made her tremble, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the room. Suddenly she remembered he said he played piano, and she bit her lip to still the grin.

So maybe he did practice . . .

Terry was oblivious to this as he played away, gently stroking the ivory and ebony keys, foot tapping down on the brass pedals.

Jasmine opened the door slowly, closing it behind her with a soft *click*. The person's back was to her, but she knew instinctively it was Terry. He was totally immersed in the song, the melody crescendoing as the notes came faster and faster as the composition reached it's climax. Intense concentration rolled off him in waves, and Jasmine was spellbound by his playing.

A pile of cushions appeared slightly to the left of the piano, but out of his direct line of vision. She set her guitar carefully on the floor beside them then sat down, reclining in the cushins and closing her eyes, becoming just as lost as he was in the music.

He had been surprised at how fast he was able to play again, he initially thought it would be a struggle and he would clumsily tap the keys, he'd never gone so long without playing. But now he was immersed in it, lost in the sound he was creating . . . his eyes stared down at his fingers with intense concentration . . . yet he was looking past his hands, not really paying attention to their actions at all. He didn't have to watch was he was doing to play.

Jasmine was so lost in his performance she barely registered it when Terry had come to an end. The last chord echoed throughout the room and she grinned, eyes still closed, and the reverb dancing inside of her like a pirouetting ballerina.

Terry finally sighed and put his hands down in his lap. Though he hadn't made any attempt to stop in the middle of the piece , in the back of his mind it registered that someone else was in the room. He turned around and smiled when he saw the girl resting her chin on her knees with a smile on her lips and her eyes closed. As quietly as he could he stood from his bench and walked toward her, crouching in front of her.

Jasmine's smile widened when she felt his presence before her. She sighed and lifted her shoulders before dropping them heavily.
"Hi," she murmured, eyes still closed.

His face was a little red, but he couldn't control his smile now that she was there. He reached out a hand and touched her cheek gently, still grinning. "See? I practice from time to time too."

She snorted, leaning her cheek into his fingers. "If you sound like that from 'time to time', God help us all when you really practice on the regular! You're as brilliant as you are modest on the piano. Perhaps I should call you Mozart!"

Her eyes were still closed, wanting just to feel his touch, to heighten the senses of it as his affection seeped into her. It was a heady experience and she could see herself becoming addicted to it rather quickly.

Terry chuckled and sat beside her. "Mozart . . . not yet, I don't think. Maybe in a century or two."

She opened an eye and arched the brow above it. "Think you'll live that long?"

"Well . . ." he said, winking. "Dumbledore is pushing one hundred-fifty and still young, witches and wizards have nice healthy life spans, so should I successfully lock myself in a box out of harm's way, I hope so."

Jasmine pouted, hugging her knees. "I do hope you don't lock yourself away in a box. People would miss you--like your father . . . Lisa . . . me . . . "

He grinned. "Well . . . in that case, I'll skip the box."

She smiled at him. "Good. I'd appreciate that."

"How are you?"

Jasmine sighed, resting her cheek against her knees. "Distracted," she answered with a slight chuckle.

He smiled at her, taken with out adorable she looked at that particular moment. His cheeks turned pink again. "Distracted?" he repeated evenly.

She bit her lip and ducked her head, suddenly feeling very shy. "I can't get my mind off you . . . for some unknown reason . . ."

She'd never been so bold, but she also made a horrible liar. Though they'd admitted their mutual attraction, Jasmine felt like she was starting this acquaintance over . . . like she was getting to know a new dimension of Terry . . . the not-so-platonic dimension . . .

He grinned at her. "I could barely focus in class, y'know," he admitted.

"And I hadn't seen you in a while . . ." she said quietly, looking at him with big, brown eyes. "I almost forgot how beautiful you were . . ."

She certainly hadn't meant to say that, but the way he was grinning at her . . . the way his eyes seemed to sparkle with the candlelight, and his genuine goodness, no other word could describe Terry but beautiful.

"Well," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders and leaning forward so that his nose brushed hers, "I hadn't forgotten how beautiful you are."

Jasmine giggled. "No I mean it! No matter how much I think of you, you always go above and beyond that whenever I see you." She hid her face, paying close attention to her hands. "I wish I could see you more often."

Terry sighed and pulled her towards him, hugging her but remaining silent.

Oh she definitely missed this . . . missed being in his arms. She hugged his neck, burrrowing her face in it. She put her legs down, draped over his thigh as he settled her between his legs.

He held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. She was soft against him, and he he sighed and shut his eyes, only vaguely aware that time was passing and the night was only growing later.

She lifted her head from his neck and kissed his cheek softly . . . shyly, not quite knowing if she had the right to, their relationship still being somewhat undefined.

He smiled again and kissed her forehead gently, rubbing her back unconsciously. "It's getting late," he said quietly.

"I know," she whispered, snuggling closer to him. It'd been two weeks since she last saw him; was it so wrong she wanted to steal a few more minutes?

Neither made any sort of attempt to move, instead, Terry leaned back just enough so that he rested against the stone wall. He ran his hand over Jasmine's hair smoothing back the loose hairs. Neither spoke, instead they sat in companionable silence, eyes shut, lost in thought.

Jasmine suddenly grew very self-conscious; well aware of the fact her thighs were over his. They'd been sitting there a while now, and the last thing she wanted was for him to faint from lack of blood supply. She tried to shift, but their position didn't allow for much movement. She gave a choked sigh and tried again.

"What's the matter?" he asked dimly, opening his eyes slightly to look down at her.

"I'm crushing you," Jasmine said plainly, but in a voice of frustrated mortification.

"No," he said simply, kissing the top of her head, "You're not."

She shook her head in denial, unable to ignore the tingling through her body at his delicate buss. "I'm so heavy, Terry . . ."

"You are not heavy at all," he replied firmly, sitting all the way up and covering a yawn.

Jasmine gave him a mild glare. "I'm over 160 pounds--by a lot! Of course I'm heavy!"

He returned her stubborn stare. "You aren't heavy to me."

Jasmine snorted. "You put some kind of 'Lightening Charm' on me without my knowledge?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Come on, love. I'll walk you to Hufflepuff."

Yet she sat there, frowning and feeling very ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry, Terry," she sighed with a shake of her head. "It's still hard for me to reconcile the fact you find me attractive . . . especially when so many others do not. I'm so afraid I'm not good enough for you . . ."

Without any hesitation, Terry crouched down in front of her again and took her face into his hands very gently, leaning forward and looking right into her brown eyes. "Believe me," he said clearly and sincerely. "I think you are absolutely beautiful, Jasmine Dorny. And far too good for most people. Too good for me, even. Do not doubt that I think that."

She closed her eyes and two tears trailed her mocha cheeks. His words washed over her like warm water in a tropical lagoon--balmy, serene, and just what she needed. If Jasmine wasn't careful she could see herself falling in love with him.

Perhaps it was already too late.

"Oh God, Terry," Jasmine whispered before hugging him again.

He kissed her cheek gently and returned the embrace, rubbing her shoulders.

"I'll try to be better," Jasmine promised, wiping her tears as she pulled away from him.

"You don't have to be anything," he whispered, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. He smiled slightly and nodded. "Now . . . ready?"

Jasmine pouted. "No . . . but it's almost curfew . . ."

He stood and offered her a hand. "It is . . . and we'll see each other tomorrow, right?"

She hummed as she took the proffered hand, slinging her guitar on her back. Jasmine didn't even mind she did nothing on her project; the moments with Terry more than worth the neglect. "I sincerely hope we do."

black_gardenia — Sun, 12 Sep 2004 23:27:30 GMT

As Lisa rounded a corner of the castle she noticed a familiar figure and face seated, staring off into the distance. Without hesitation, she started toward her schoolmate.

Jasmine dropped her elbows, now resting fully on the ground, her legs bent to the sky. She heard footsteps coming her way and looked from where they were coming, smiling brightly and waving once she saw who it was.

"Hi, Lisa!"

She raised her eyebrows, taking note of the particularly cheerful greeting. "Hello . . ." she said, approaching. "What has you in such a good mood?"

Jasmine grinned and shrugged. "It's a beautiful day."

"Really. I hadn't noticed." Lisa took a seat beside Jasmine.

Jasmine frowned. "What's wrong? Is everything all right?"

Lisa raised her eyebrows again. "Of course everything's all right." She paused and plucked a blade of grass out of the ground and began nonchalantly. "I went for a walk with Terry this morning."

Jasmine bit her lip, but it didn't stop the smile from forming. "Really? How's he doing?"

Lisa pursed her lips. "Oh, I don't know. You tell me?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I'm not inside his head, Lisa. The only one who could answer that as honestly as possible is Terry . . . although I do hope he is doing well."

She stared at Jasmine for a long moment in silence. Finally, she spoke again. "Something happened, didn't it?"

Jasmine smiled and nodded, sitting up to hug her knees. "I still can't believe it and it's been a week passed . . ."

"A week?" repeated Lisa incredulously, "Well tell me, Jasmine!"

Jasmine gave a long suffering sigh, but went on to tell her friend about the date, the surprise of the jazz club; the dance and how she felt being so close to him . . . so cherished by him, then the supposed brush-off; she told Lisa of how she told Terry she fancied him in an effort to "clear up" any "misunderstandings" when it turned out he was feeling the same.

"And he kissed me, Lisa. He kissed me and hugged me and the feeling was just so wonderful. Maybe I felt a little of what you feel when you're with Harry . . ."

At the conclusion of Jasmine's story, Lisa was sitting, looking at her friend with an expression torn between absolute elation for her and smug I-told-you-so satisfaction. She would have to smack Terry upside the head for not telling her, but she could barely contain her grin now. " . . . Wow." She managed. It was either that or throwing herself onto Jasmine in an enormous embrace.

Jasmine smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah . . . I can hardly believe it . . ."

Lisa smiled and hugged Jasmine tight. "I'm so happy for you," she said sincerely into her friend's ear. "Really, Jas."

Jasmine hugged Lisa back just as tightly and laughed lightly. "Part of me dreads this is all a dream and I'll wake up and things will be like they usually are . . . and part of me is just so thrilled and so scared about 'what happens next'. I have no idea! I mean, we've established we fancy each other . . . okay? Does that mean we're together, or is it like when you find a cute pair of shoes, you like them, but they don't fit?"

She smiled slightly as she pulled back. "I'm not quite sure."

Jasmine chuckled and shook her head. "Yes. I haven't spoken to him in a week. You think, perhaps . . . he was caught up in the moment? Or just wanted to be nice to me? I don't know how I could take it if it was just that . . ."

"No, no, no." Lisa said. She shook her head and swotted Jasmine's arm gently. "Don't even."

Jasmine regarded Lisa for a moment. "How did you and Harry make that transition? Did you announce it to each other or did it sort of just . . . happen?"

She moved so that she and her friend were shoulder to shoulder. "I . . . I don't quite remember. Though, yes, there was that awkward phase of 'so I fancy you and you fancy me and it's clear that we aren't just mates, but what in Merlin's name are we?'"

Jasmine snorted, resting her head on Lisa's shoulder. "Bet you two had a grand time then!"

"About as grand as your time with Terry will be," Lisa said with a smile, dropping her head to rest on Jas'.

Jasmine giggled. "Can we get right to the blissfully confirmed part of the relationship . . . or non-relationship? This limbo thing can drive a gal right off her trolley!"

"Oh, I'm certain you will get to the confirmed part of the relationship right away." Lisa grinned and flicked the grass in her hands to the ground.

Jasmine sighed, her eyes locked on a particularly fluffy cloud as it drifted across the sky. "Really? You get to see him more than I do . . ."

Lisa frowned and looked at her. "We do live in the same house . . . . Though I'm sure if you extended the invitation he'd be quick to move into Hufflepuff with you."

Jasmine laughed heartily. "You think?"

She winked. "I dunno, you'd have to ask the boy."

Jasmine snickered. "Don't tempt me, Lisa. Bad enough I can't get him out of my mind when he's gone. If he was with me in my house, I'd never get any work done!"

Giggling, Lisa nudged her in the ribs. "You'd get something done, I'm sure."

Jasmine sputtered, blushing furiously. "You're so bad!"

"You'll be soon enough." Lisa winked.

Jasmine rolled her eyes and smirked. "I highly doubt that! I'm the very picture of innocence . . ." Jasmine batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner, and both girls giggled.

"Right. And we'll just go on letting you believe that."

"It's the truth!"

"Right again."

They laughed again, then settled down to a companionable silence. The sun was beginning to set and other students ambled into the castle. Jasmine wasn't ready to leave quiet yet, dusk being among her favorite time of the day. "You know, even if it was a fluke, I won't regret that date for a moment. Terry proved I could be desireable, if only for a little while . . ."

"You proved you had enough confidence to say what the hell was on your mind." Lisa smiled. "There's not much better than that."

Jasmine laughed shortly. "I had to. The not knowing was gettin' to me . . . like it is now."

"So once again perhaps the best decision is to say something?"

"That would require me to see him."

"Well, find him?" Lisa yawned and stood up. "Cho Chang has them running laps around the Quidditch pitch every day, and exams are on the way. But he's certainly not avoiding you. Stupid bloke always walking around with a grin on his face . . . ."

Jasmine blushed. "Don't tell me that."

"All right." Lisa rolled her eyes and straightened her clothes. "He looks absolutely awful, miserable twit, moping about all the time because fair Jasmine has yet to ask him to move into Hufflepuff . . . ."

Jasmine laughed, hugging Lisa tightly. "You're so silly!"

"Only a little bit." She winked. "Anyway . . . I'm off, I still have a few things to do before tomorrow."

"Okay." The two girls stood, walking arm and arm to the castle. They reached the main stairs and hugged each other tightly. "It was nice talking to you, helping me get me work through my crazy thoughts. Tell Terry I said hello?"

"I'll tell him you said 'Terry Oliver Boot I want your gorgey body,'" said Lisa, laughing and dodging out of the way when Jasmine made to swipe at her.

"Don't you do that!" Jasmine called in the corridor, walking backwards to the stairs to the dungeons.

suzeinanutshell — Sun, 12 Sep 2004 15:54:19 GMT

Brocklehurst,

Apparently we've been assigned together to do the final project for our International law course. Are you busy this afternoon?

-Susan Bones

Thursday Night

black_gardenia — Sat, 11 Sep 2004 17:19:25 GMT

"Think you'll do all right on the exam?" Harry asked Lisa as he closed the portentous Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the pages they had been studying. She knew the incantations all right, and the theory wasn't at all complex. But the practical part? "Not as well as you will . . ." she admitted, finally closing her book. "But I think I'll manage."

"You'll do fine, I'm sure of it," he reassured her.

Lisa smiled slightly and put her book away. "I hope so." They had been studying for their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam for a few hours now, and she couldn't ignore the tugging in her stomach. "Anyway, dinner?"

"Yes, definitely," he agreed, standing up. "What time is it, anyway?"

"I--" she paused and frowned, glancing out the window. It was quite dark, they hadn't even noticed the sun set. "I'm actually . . . not sure."

He peered out. The hallway was deserted. A clock struck in the distance; a quarter past eight. "I think dinner's done with."

Lisa slid past him to peek into the empty corridor herself. "Erm . . . well, that's not good."

"We could get some food from the kitchens," he offered. "Shall we?"

She nodded and grabbed her book bag off the floor, "Good idea."

They left the room and went towards the direction of the kitchens. Tickling the pear with one finger, Harry led Lisa through the entranceway.

Much to their satisfaction, however quiet the castle had become the kitchen was as alive and awake as ever. Dozens of house elves dashed around with plates and platters in their hands. It took little effort on their part to gather food left over from dinner, and a few minutes after entering, Lisa and Harry were on their way again, hands full of food, on the way to the Room of Requirement, where they decided to eat their supper.

"Well," Harry grinned as he balanced a tray of steaming food on one hand and pulled the door open with the other. "This isn't half bad."

Lisa laughed. Not half bad? The Room of Requirement had transformed from its usual clean, spacious self for DA meetings into a dim, cozy room with a table and two chairs set up in the center, complete with place settings and all. A fire place lit in, and a number of pillows and bean bags were scattered about. "Not half bad at all," agreed Lisa.

"It's more peaceful than the Great Hall," Harry remarked, before cracking into a grin. "And I don't have to look at any unpleasant Slytherins scowling at me."

"Thank goodness for that," laughed Lisa as she set down the things in her hand before helping Harry slide the platter the house elves had given them onto the table.

He poured her a glass of pumpkin juice from a flagon, and then poured one for himself. "To success on the test, and general good luck."

"Cheers." Lisa reached across the table to touch her cup with his before sitting and reclining comfortably.

He took a sip of his drink and then tucked into his meal. The food was still hot and fresh, and he savoured the beef pie with gravy that Dobby had set on the platter slowly.

Lisa carefully rested her feet on the edge of Harry's chair, legs stretched out under the table as she tasted the food prepared for them. "So then," she said with a smile, "Who was that elf with all the socks and such?"

"That's Dobby," Harry chuckled. "He used to work at Malfoy Manor until he was freed... and now he works for Hogwarts for wages."

"The Malfoys let one of their house elves go?" Lisa asked, raising an eyebrow. "What . . . change of heart?"

"No," Harry answered. "I tricked Mr. Malfoy into throwing a sock at Dobby."

She had to fight snickering. "I'm certain he was ever so pleased about that."

"He was about to hex me," HArry laughed. "Until Dobby blasted him down a flight of stairs."

Lisa grinned. "Oh, that must've been a sight for the history books."

"It was," Harry chuckled. "That was in my second year. Dobby's been grateful to me ever since."

She prodded at her food with a fork before taking another thoughtful bite. "How did you come to meet Dobby in the first place?"

"He randomly appeared at my house to warn me not to go back to school second year," HArry replied, setting down his fork as he recalled that particular fiasco.

She raised her eyebrows but sat in silence. Lisa wasn't sure how much he wanted to share with her . . . she wasn't even really certain that it was her business, but she was curious.

"It wasn't the last time he tried to keep me out of school either," Harry told her. "He actually sealed off the entrance to Platform 9 and 3/4 at King's Cross."

"He just decided that you shouldn't go to school? For no reason?"

"No... he knew that the Malfoys were plotting something that could put me in danger."

Lisa raised her eyebrows. "That was brave of him . . . . The Malfoys never found out he warned you, then?"

"I don't think so," Harry remarked. "He means well."

She nodded. "I'm certain he does."

"He's an oddity amongst the House Elves, though," Harry said, between bites of food. "Most of them would consider it shameful to work for wages."

"Isn't that what . . . Hermione's club is all about, or something to that effect?"

"Yes," Harry grinned ruefully. "Hermione saw the late Mr. Crouch at the Ministry berating his House Elf and got very... indignant."

Lisa chuckled. "Is she still recruiting members?"

"Yes," Harry said dryly. "Ron and I were made Secretary and Treasurer, I think... or something like that."

"Mmm." Lisa laughed and pushed away her plate, "Something makes me suspect that you're less than dedicated to the cause, Potter."

"Not all House Elves are like Dobby," Harry said simply. "Some are... extremely faithful to their families."

She nodded. "I would figure as much. Though I suppose Hermione wouldn't like to hear that, would she?"

"She knows," he said with a light sight. "Hermione just tends to be... rather stubborn about things."

Lisa smiled and looked over to the fire. "Oh, well. There are worse things to be stubborn about."

Harry kept silent about how Kreacher's treachery had caused the whole fiasco at the Department of Mysteries the last year. "I suppose so."

Lisa cleaned her plate with her wand, and pushed her chair away from the table, standing to yawn. "Is that what it's like to be in Gryffindor?" she teased. "Have adventures and save the day and create groups to right society in your spare time?" she winked. "No wonder you've all trumped us."

"There's more, I'm sure," Harry chuckled. "I think what you describe is limited to me and my friends."

Laughing as she nudged a pillow closer to the fire to sit on, Lisa grinned. "But what else could there possibly be?"

"Quidditch, maybe. And I think Parvati and Lavender gossip over things in Witch Weekly."

She sat. "Oh, the second is very important, rest assured."

"I see," Harry raised an eyebrow. "I've never read Witch Weekly, so I wouldn't know."

Lisa laughed outright. "I should hope not."

"Why, what's in it?"

"Oh . . ." she shrugged and blushed, "Things of little concern to you."

"I... see," Harry gave her an odd look, but didn't pursue the topic.

She continued to blush slightly and flattened her skirt. "How is your dinner?"

"It's nice," he answered. "What about yours?"

"Was delicious. But I was starved."

"Want some dessert?" he asked, pushing forward a tray of tarts.

Lisa stood again and crossed to the table where he was still seated. Though the sweets looked appetizing, she wasn't sure how much more she could take. "No thanks," she replied. "I'm a little tired anyway."

The table miraculously vanished, and in its place stood a settee. "Let's sit down for a bit then."

She sat next to him, drawing her feet up and resting her head on his shoulder. They faced the crackling fire place, leaning back against the comfortable cushions. "This is good preparation for a test," Lisa said lightly, a slight smile still on her lips.

"Yes it is," he murmured, leaning his cheek against her soft curls. "I could stay like this for quite a while."

She turned on her side so that she could look up into his face. "I could too."

He kissed her cheek and smiled. "I like being with you."

Lisa blushed slightly and wrapped her arm around his chest. "I'm glad. Because I like being with you too." She sighed and continued to look up into his face. "I can't believe it's May."

"I know," Harry said softly. So much had happened that year, and he was still apprehensive that worse was still to come.

She felt his muscles tense ever so slightly beneath her touch and she frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, hugging her briefly. "I'm just... thinking about this year."

Lisa stared up at him without reply for a long moment. Without asking more questions, she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck before resting her head on his shoulder again.

His hold on her tightened, and he inhaled deeply. "I love you, Lisa," he said suddenly, softly.

Her dark eyes focused on his face again. "I love you, Harry," she replied sincerely. She brought a soft hand to his cheek.

"Let's just... stay like this," he said a bit hoarsely, stroking one hand through her hair.

She nodded. "Okay," she whispered in reply, brushing his dark hair out of his face with her hand before resting it on his chest again.

If only they COULD stay like this forever, it would be perfect. But Harry temporarily put troubling thoughts out of his mind and focused on the girl he was holding. Even if just for a few hours, she made everything in his world seem just a bit better by being in it.

slythprincess — Thu, 09 Sep 2004 03:56:29 GMT

"Sorry I'm late," Pansy muttered as she entered the small classroom that had been given over for her Defence and curse-breaking duties.

Bill Weasley turned to face her, his usual easygoing smile playing on his lips. "I'm usually the one who's running behind, Miss Parkinson .. I believe your tardiness can be excused this once." He gestured to the nearest desk. "Before we get into what I'd planned for today, there's something I wanted to discuss with you first."

Pansy's eyes narrowed and her steps slowed as she approached the desk. The tone of his voice hadn't changed, but something in his words put her on guard. She settled her schoolbag on the surface of the desk and settled down into the seat. "What is it?" she asked.

Bill sat down on the edge of the desk. "I heard from Professor McGonagall, who'd heard it from the Headmaster that you'd had an ... incident, in Hogsmeade." He watched her expression for a moment. "Are you .. all right?"

Pansy sat silent for a moment, wondering where she could possibly begin to express how the incident had affected her.

"McGonagall said that you'd had an extremely close call with two suspected Death Eaters," he said quietly. "I just thought you should know that if you wished to talk about it with someone who wasn't an authority figure, I would be glad to."

So very Gryff, Pansy thought, irritated. And yet attempting to discuss anything of the sort with Miles would agitate him further; dealing with an highly-upset Miles Bletchley via owl was not an appealing prospect. "I will keep it in mind," Pansy said finally. "And .. thanks."

"Any time," Bill said. "This business of having Prefects patrol Hogsmeade is worrying ... there SHOULD be Aurors handling this sort of thing, but in previous years the Ministry didn't see fit to expand the Auror Corps, and now they're short-staffed." He glanced down at his young protege. "To make a long story short, it is a damned dangerous policy to have students guarding the village, and I'm impressed by your willingness to help out."

"Compared to Hogsmeade patrol, cursebreaking will not be so bad," Pansy mused, but was startled by the vehemence with which her mentor shook his head.

"Don't start thinking that, Miss Parkinson. Cursebreaking has its own dangers; even experienced and trained people can get into trouble." Bill frowned. "Rumour has it that the Chinese division is down two cursebreakers from a recent incident, whether due to inattention or simply a particularly pernicious curse."

Pansy's head snapped up violently. "What?"

Bill regarded the Slytherin curiously. She'd obviously heard what he'd said; this seemed to be more of an emotional reaction. "What's the question?" he asked, a gentleness seeping into his tone.

"Who was it? What part of China?" she asked quickly, her eyes flashing.

"I don't know, but I can find out," Bill replied slowly. "Why?"

"Because ..." the set of Pansy's jaw tightened. "A friend is in Xi'an, at the catacombs."

Bill remembered some mention of a friend who was a cursebreaker, back at the very beginning of their association. "Tell you what. I have to go into London tomorrow, to perform an errand .. I'll see what information I can get for you, and send you an owl." He paused. "Will that be all right?"

"I'd appreciate that."

Saturday's Developments

dornjazz — Tue, 07 Sep 2004 13:06:00 GMT

Terry took one last look in the mirror before hurrying out of his bedroom, down through the Ravenclaw Common Room and out into the castle. He had gotten ready on his own in calm silence and ended up wearing a nice pair of khakis and a white sweater, one of his best. He'd tucked his wand away in his pocket, made sure he had enough money and was on his way to Hufflepuff to meet Jasmine.

Jasmine had a hard time deciding what to wear, and she knew the clocked ticked down to four pm. Everything she had, Jasmine decided wasn't good enough. She really didn't have a wardrobe for dating--everything was too casual or too dressy, so she had to improvise. In the end she settled for a burgundy button down shirt with a black tank underneath and black dress pants. She slipped on her flats and grabbed her jean jacket, praying Terry would still be there despite her tardiness.

Though both Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley shot him dirty looks for being so close to their Common Room—though Ernie couldn't write him up or report him, since he hadn't technically broken any rules knowing where the entrance to Hufflepuff was—Terry leaned against the wall as he waited for Jasmine near the kitchen. The smell of food wafting from the kitchen was making him hungry, and he felt slightly nervous. He could only hope she liked his selection for that afternoon.

Jasmine stumbled out of her Common Room, the sleeve of her jacket catching on something in her haste.

"Not now!" she pleaded, unhooking the cuff from a suit of armor and refolding the jacket more closely to her person. She felt strands of her hair escaping her ever-present bun, and she shoved the jacket between her legs to fix it. At this rate, if Terry wasn't gone he was surely annoyed and Jasmine didn't blame him. This was a ruddy way of starting a date!

"Hello," Terry greeted a few first years that filed out of the Common Room. They noticed him and began to giggle. He shook his head and turned toward the entrance, waiting for Jasmine.

Finally! She thought, once she felt her hair was back in place. Jasmine readjusted her glasses and turned the corner. She spotted him on the wall, one foot resting against it as he stared at the candles on the opposite wall. He looked so handsome and Jasmine had to pause briefly to admire him. The butterflies began again, and she wondered what deity decided to humor her by letting Terry take her out that afternoon.

He saw a familiar face out of the corner of his eye and turned to her, smiling. "All right?" he greeted, walking toward his date with hands shoved nervously in his pockets. "You look wonderful."

She blushed and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Really? I'm so sorry about being late! It takes time for me to look 'wonderful'! Glad it wasn't all for naught!"

He grinned. "Eh, waiting wasn't all that bad," said Terry, winking. "Shall we?"

Jasmine nodded and soon they were out of the castle. The air was a bit brisk and she slipped on her jean jacket. She had absolutely no idea where they were going, but she assumed they were going to Hogsmeade. "Am I dressed all right?"

"I told you," said Terry, nudging her arm gently, "You look great."

She smiled gratefully at him and adjusted her glasses. "You, too, Terry."

He offered her his arm as they walked down the path toward Hogsmeade. It was a cool spring day, and though the afternoons were getting longer the sun still was far in the west already. "I hope you like where we're heading . . ." he said slowly.

Jasmine bit her lip and gave him a quick look before staring ahead of her. "I trust you, Terry."

He smiled slightly and they strolled in companionable silence for a while. When they neared the village he looked down at her again. "Have you eaten lunch?" he asked.

She felt a blush come on and she shook her head shortly. "I've been too nervous to eat . . ."

"Well, we'll fix that," Terry told her. "What's your favorite place to eat?"

"My favorite place . . ." she murmured, her brows furrowed. She shrugged and laughed a little. "Honestly I just eat wherever, but I tend not to go into the Hog's Head."

"Well it's your choice," he explained. They came to a stop at the main gate to the village. "The surprise isn't until a little later. What sort of food do you want for lunch?"

Jasmine wasn't very hungry, especially since the butterflies in her stomach became more excited at the mention of a surprise. "We can just go to the Three Broomsticks if that's okay with you?"

"Sure. Let's go."

They went into the pub and grabbed a table in a warm corner far from the door. They made their orders and a barmaid brought two mugs of butterbeer as they waited. Jasmine took a sip of her drink, then grinned. "So . . . what's the surprise?"

He sipped his butterbeer and then laughed. "Doesn't the notion of my telling you what the surprise is before we get to it destroy the purpose of calling it a surprise?" Terry grinned across the table at her. "You'll see."

He really shouldn't grin like that at her. It created warm and fuzzy feelings inside and she was dangerously close to giggling. She hid her own grin in her mug, taking another sip of butterbeer. She gave a sigh, then peered at him. "Not even a teeny hint?"

"Hmm. I'm not good at hints . . ." Terry admitted softly. He scratched his chin and stared off into space, feigning a look of severe concentration. "Hmm. What sort of hint?"

Jasmine's grinned threatened to widen, so she ducked her head and bit her lip. Terry was entirely too charming for her peace of mind. "A good one. One that'll make me figure out what it is," she said once she composed herself.

"Okay." He screwed up his face in thought before grinning and saying simply, "Think brass and bird."

Jasmine chuckled and tilted her head. "Is there a saxophone and singing involved?"

"Not fair!" Terry cried out indignantly, smiling nonetheless. "I told you I was bad at giving clues. I always give it away."

Jasmine raised her eyebrows in disagreement. "I think those are pretty good clues, especially given the kinds of students who go to Hogwarts!" The food appeared and Jasmine thanked the server. "Besides, it's still a surprise. Just because I know what it is doesn't mean I know who's performing. Then again, it's a surprise knowing you'd go all out of your way like you have. I think I like your surprises, Terry Boot."

He took a couple of chips off the plate they were sharing. "I'll just have to keep surprising you, then."

She arched an eyebrow. "Just make sure they're good and pleasant!"

"I shall remember to."

They finished the meal and paid, and soon they were off to . . . wherever. Jasmine liked spending time with Terry, growing more at ease with every passing moment. Warning bells went off in her head, telling her to be wary of getting too comfortable around him, but Terry made it all but impossible not to feel at ease.

"This way," Terry led, turning a corner toward Madam Puddifoots.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a small grin.

He shook his head. "No, no. You already figured enough out already, we'll be there in a moment."

She laughed. "I know what we're doing when we get there, but where is there!"

"You will see." He made a face. "Aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be patient and such?"

Jasmine snorted. "What does the hat know?"

"Who knows? But we're here anyway."

Terry led her down the stairs of the establishment, and the strains of jazz greeted her ears. She began to grin; happily surprised the wizarding world played that kind of music.

He led Jasmine through the crowd toward and open table in the front.

The brass and the bird were on point tonight, and Jasmine bobbed her head to the beat. She paid attention to all the instruments, particularly the bass guitar. She wondered how Terry knew about this place.
"Did you happen to stumble upon this club on another one of your dates?" she asked good-naturedly.

Terry, who had called for a couple of drinks from the bar, rolled his eyes. "Yes, because I've been on so many dates." He winked and then shook his head. "My father took me to see this group in a small blues club in an out-of-the-way place in London I had never been to."

Jasmine grinned at him and nudged his shoulder. "Well they are very good. I'm glad you brought me here."

"I just wanted to take you someplace you would enjoy yourself."

"Well, you've certainly succeeded there," she said with a smile.

Terry smiled slowly and handed her the butterbeer before turning his attention to the stage.

Jasmine took a sip from her drink, then slipped her eyes closed. The notes drifted over her, and she began to hum, sometimes doing harmony and sometimes scatting like her favorite artist Ella Fitzgerald.

They sat in silence, each enthralled in the music as they listened to the set. The mood and tone of the set was constantly changing, evolving; it was becoming increasingly difficult not to get lost in the music.

Soon some couples began to leave their tables and dance, gently swaying to the soft swells of the saxophone and the calming thrum of the bass. Jasmine smiled softly, reminded of her parents doing the very same in their living room when she was younger.

Ter glanced away from the stage as he noticed a few couples taking to the empty space to his and Jasmine's side, dancing. He touched Jasmine's shoulder lightly and smiled slightly. "Do you want to dance?" he asked quietly beneath the rich hum of the trumpet.

She grinned at him and nodded, placing her hand in the one he offered her. At first they were a respectable distance apart, her hands at his shoulders and his at his waist, but during the course of the song they grew closer, until her cheek rested near his shoulder and he hugged her to him. Jasmine felt her eyes sting, overwhelmed by the care and appreciation she felt in his arms.

The two, quite obviously the youngest in the room, rocked back and forth to the slow melody of the music's sad crooning. They moved so slowly, it had become more about holding each other than dancing. Jasmine was warm and soft against him, sweet and comfortable. The music was like a lullaby.

The last strains of the song caught Jasmine's ear and she sighed, not really wanting to let him go.
"Would it be too silly of me if I said I didn't want this song to end?"

Terry smiled and smoothed a hair that had fallen out of her bun back. "Not too silly."

Jasmine chuckled and shook her head, pulling back to meet his eyes, hers teasing. "Only a little silly, then."

"Not very silly at all," Terry said slowly, looking down at her and studying her face.

Jasmine heard the seriousness in his tone, and it took her breath away. "Oh," she breathed, the intensity of his stare causing her to become suddenly shy. His arms tightened around her and she licked her suddenly-dry lips. "Well, that's good then, I reckon . . ."

Terry was suddenly aware that his heart was beating very fast. "The song's over—" he said quietly in a nondescript tone of voice.

Jasmine suddenly felt very foolish, and she eased out of his arms. "Of course. I'm sorry about that . . ." She walked quickly to the table, trying desperately not let her embarrassment show.

He suddenly felt very foolish, that familiar feeling he got when he felt as though he missed an opportunity. An opportunity for what, he wasn't sure, but the feeling itself was present. He bent down by her–seated at their table again. "Let me get you another drink?" he asked softly as the music began again.

"Water, please," she said without looking at him. Jasmine didn't want to see the pity in his eyes; didn't want the confirmation that she was projecting her feelings onto him . . .

"Hey," he began, furrowing his brow. Though not the most observant in the world, it didn't take much to notice her tone had changed. "What's the matter?"

She took deep breath and looked at him. "I think . . . before this goes any further, we need to talk, clear up some things . . ."
Jasmine certainly didn't plan on this, but she wanted to be fair as possible to Terry, to make sure there was no confusion between them.

Terry gazed at her, even more concerned now. "Okay . . ." he said quietly. " . . . d'you want to go outside or—"

"Yeah, outside," she said quickly, gathering her things and walking out to the mild, night air. She went to a bench not far from where the club was, the soft glow of the streetlamp calming her nerves somewhat.

His stomach had tightened into a knot, and Terry slid into the seat beside her, nervous. "All right?" he asked quietly, looking at Jasmine and waiting.

She exhaled slowly. "I—" Jasmine glanced at him, his eyes full of concern and care and she closed her eyes to it. Now that she had him alone, all her resolve left. She licked her lips again, struggling to find her thoughts and voice.

"What's the matter?" he asked again, leaning toward her a little bit.

Now or never she told herself. Jasmine turned to him, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I fancy you," she blurted, then left the bench, walking quickly away from him.

Terry only hesitated a moment, delayed by his own surprise, before jumping up and striding after her. "Jasmine—" he said as he hurried behind her. "Jasmine, wait a moment."

She stopped but didn't turn to face him, bracing herself for his "gentle" letdown. "It's all right Terry. I know you don’t—but I just wanted to tell you before it got any further, before—"

Before she could go on, he cut her off by swiftly bending down and pressing his lips to hers. His hand slipped up to touch her cheek gently as his eyes closed.

Jasmine leaned into the kiss, her hand touching the forearm of the hand at her face, a tear trailing down her cheek.

Vaguely of the wetness that had fallen on his fingers, Terry carefully wiped her cheek with his thumb, not quite daring to part yet.

After a few more moments Jasmine broke away and his forehead rested against hers. "Terry?"

He pulled back slightly and looked down at her, afraid he might see regret in her eyes.

She licked her lips, tasting his upon them. "What did that mean?"

"I fancy you too, Jasmine," he said simply. His cheeks were pink but voice serious.

She grinned, shrugging her shoulders and cupping his cheek. "Really?"

"Really," he said, returning her smile.

Suddenly she became very shy again, and peered at him through her lashes. "Does this mean you can kiss me again?"

Terry grinned sheepishly before leaning forward and brushing his lips over hers again in a tender kiss.

They parted again and she whispered. "I reckon I like this kissing thing."

He laughed and pulled her close in a hug. "Do you now?" he asked quietly.

She hugged him tightly, burrowing her head in his chest. "Very much so . . . especially you."

[happened a bit back, sorry]

swarthy_git — Fri, 03 Sep 2004 03:06:52 GMT

Cassius Warrington arrived five minutes early for his appointment, greeting the host at The Champagne Fountain with a curt salutation and letting one of the house elves take his cloak. "Reservation for Warrington," he told the moustached man at the door coolly, and was immediately led to a private table to wait for his companion.

Remus hurried toward the entrance of The Champagne Fountain. He'd never been in the restaurant. It was definitely a little too rich for his blood, he mused as he scanned the elegant entry. He was wholly unsure of what this meeting was to entail, but as he looked at his tattered robes he reminded himself that at this stage he didn't have much room for pickiness.

After a raised eyebrow from the host and a quiet discussion of whom it was that Remus was meeting, he was led back to a small private room.

"Cassius Warrington, it's good to see a former student again." Remus began with a measured tone.

"The pleasure is all mine," the former Slytherin rose from his seat respectfully and held out a hand for the older man to shake. "I thank you for agreeing to come tonight."

"Of course, it's not a problem." Remus shook Cassius's hand and took a seat across from the younger man. "Now what is it that you wanted to discuss."

Cassius was silent for a moment as the waiter came in to ask if either of them wanted something to drink. He requested a gin and tonic, and looked at Remus.

"Scotch... on the rocks." It had been quite some time since Remus enjoyed muggle spirits, especially residing at the Three Broomsticks. "I'm sorry to be so abrupt, I was just a bit surprised to receive an invitation to dinner from a former Slytherin." Remus apologized as the waiter returned with their drinks.

"Completely understandable, knowing of the... benevolent camaraderie between yourself and my former Head of House," Cassius remarked, though his voice wasn't unkind. After the waiter had left, Cassius turned towards his former professor with a serious face. "I'm sure you know of what has been happening this entire year..."

Remus nodded his head, his eyes grave."Yes, unfortunately I am well aware of what has been going on this year. I'm afraid living in Hogsmeade has made me privy to far more of the dark dealings than I would prefer."

"The same," Cassius replied curtly. "It doesn't make much sense, really... so many people who have died are PUREBLOODS. No one is really safe any more."

"I have to agree, it really makes little sense. When I was younger you knew where the enemy would strike and who was targeted but those distinctions no longer exist." Remus took a slow sip of his beverage as he ruminated on all those that had already lost their lives in this renewed conflict.

The waiter arrived once again, asking for their orders, and both gave their selections. After the young man had left again, Cassius turned back to his former teacher. "I'll be frank with you, sir. It is... very distressing... to lose my family... and to see the same tragedy befall those I've known all my life. I had never intended to really involve myself in any aspect of this war, but as recent situations would have it, I have no choice."

Remus admired his honesty as he studied the young man across from him. "I understand, this battle has rather been forced upon you hasn't it... What are you proposing, how would you see yourself, and I'm assuming myself involved?"

"Until recently, it hasn't come HERE, the war," Cassius' jaw clenched slightly. "It was in Avebury. Or Paris. Not here, so close to Hogwarts, where students who don't even have the knowledge yet how to fight back-- believe themselves to be in the safest place in the world."

What Cassius was saying was true, Remus mused. Things were changing innocents were being involved. As he sat in the Three Broomsticks on Hogsmeade weekends, it often frustrated him that there was little he could do to protect them anymore. He nodded his head curtly and waited for Cassius to continue.

"I'm making you an offer..." Cassius paused as their entrees were delivered, and kept silent until the waiter had lifted the cover off of his platter of satay of chicken and left the room once again. "Your services for financial compensation."

Remus was quiet for a moment, he picked up his fork and tapped it softly on the edge of his plate in thought. "What kind of services would you require? I'm afraid I don't have much access to the school these days."

"There needs to be someone who is familiar with the school and the students, though," Cassius murmured. "You know them... you TAUGHT them. They respect your abilities, if nothing else. We all did."

Remus arched an eyebrow, that was the last thing he expected a Slytherin to say. "I suppose that is true, but I can't see that being worthy of finacial compensation." He smiled wryly at Cassius.

"I'm not wanting on the financial aspect," Cassius waved a hand dismissively. "But... my work takes me around the world. I can't always be here in Hogsmeade to ensure that people like my sister, when she visits the village with her peers, shall return safely to Hogwarts. With what has been happening this year, I believe it's in everyone's best interests to have someone whom the students know and trust-- and who is competent-- to patrol the village for any suspicious activity. Stationing a troop of Aurors here would be too... obvious."

Remus was silent as he comtemplated the offer Cassius was making. He did know Hogsmeade like the back of his hand, and it wasn't as though any other work was eating up his free time. He had a point about the troop of aurors, it would simply push the activity into secrecy, preventing any opportunity to stop it. He paused in his thought process, if anyone found out what he was doing, it would surely put Rosie in danger so long as he lived at the Three Broomsticks. "I'll need to find a new place to live..." He murmured quietly.

"Done," Cassius said simply. "Look for a place... don't worry about the cost. Are there any other concerns about this proposition?"

Remus shook his head slowly as a smile spread across his face. The feelings of discontent and failure eased from his soul. "No, I don't think so, but if anything comes to mind I'll be sure to ask." He reached across the table and shook Cassius's hand. "I'll do whatever I can to protect those children... it shouldn't be their fight."

"Excellent to know that we're in agreement here," the young man's lip quirked upward slightly. "Now... your meal is getting cold."

Remus looked down at the plate before him, a rich beef burgundy, and smiled. "You do have a good point, and as much as I love Madame Rosmerta's fare... this looks incredible."

"This is a nice establishment," Cassius replied. "Fairly exclusive, but they provide good services and it's best for discussing business... most booths are equipped with silencing spells."

Remus looked around, it was far posher than anything he regularly dined at. "That is a rather handy feature. You seem to have done rather well for yourself since leaving school Cassius, but then again that shouldn't be a surprise. I quite clearly remember you as a student, and success was only befitting for you."

"Thanks," Cassius didn't flush or preen at the compliment, as one might have expected. "I try... and it has to be done." He gave the older man a small smile. "I am in your debt for your agreement to my proposal. You don't understand the importance of this to me."

"I think I do... and I completely understand. You've lost enough already, we've all lost enough..." Remus trailed off trying not to remember the scores of people he had know who had lost their lives at the hands of the "dark lord."

The young man sighed. "Yes. My parents once said that you... and the Potters, and Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew... you were all in school together. And now... I suppose you do understand." Surprisingly or not, Cassius' voice was soft, perhaps even respectful. "I can't lose my sister. I lost my parents, and nearly lost my cousin. And then there are so many others who... just have no reason to be forced into the fray like we have."

"Yes, we were all friends... they were rather like my family." Remus opened his mouth as if to say more on the subject but instead took a long sip of his drink. Setting the glass down he cleared his throat and smiled softly. "Well Cassius, I think that it is best I get going. The earlier I start looking for new lodging tomorrow the better" Remus placed his napkin on the table and stood up. "Its good to be working with you, your parents would be quite pleased with you... that I'm sure of."

"Thank you for your commendation," Cassius replied, his voice now smooth and cool as the two of them rose. "Have an enjoyable rest of the evening." Leaving the payment for the meal on the table, he followed the other out of the restaurant.

sweetmandyalice — Thu, 02 Sep 2004 03:15:35 GMT

Theo quietly made his way up to the library, he needed to scout out a way to get into the restricted section. After witnessing the attack on the children he knew he needed to start studying now. All his father's books had been taken after his arrest. Theo had watched them systematically root though his entire house, the Aurors joking about the downfall of his family. He'd watched with a clenched jaw and vowed to erase the haughty smiles from each of their faces.

His only recourse now was to get access to the schools collection of books in the library. It was late and only a handful of people were in the library, hopefully he would be able to find a way in, either now or later, without notice. He crossed the library, making sure to keep his eyes averted and his pace unnoticeable.

Mandy, who had been sitting alone on the far side of the room, hidden from view by stacks and stacks of books and huge rows of shelves. She had been trying to escape the noise of the Ravenclaw Common Room and had studied for a good hour in peace. But now in the silence (she had noticed only three other people in the library) she was bored out of her mind.

She leaned back in her chair and stretched. As Mandy raked her fingers through her thick dark hair, tipped back on the back two legs of her seat, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a boy in dark robes moving slowly across the floor. Curious, she continued to stare discreetly.

Theo approached the corner of the library that held the books he was most interested in. He looked back over his shoulder, Pince was occupied flipping through some ridiculous magazine and paying no attention to him. He quickly slipped around a book case and looked at his objective from this new vantage point. If he waited until she left the library he would have free reign over the books. A wry smiled crossed his face as he tasted success. He looked around for a place to hide himself, finding one he headed toward the far side of the room.

It didn't take a genius or someone particularly observant to notice what the Slytherin bloke was noticing, so long as you were looking. It seemed to Mandy that no one else was even aware he was there though. Resolve crossing her face, Mandy put her hands on her hips and walked over to the spot she had seen him disappear to.

Theo had his back turned when he heard footsteps approaching. He slowly turned around, schooling his features to hide all signs of the treachery he was attempting to undertake. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at the girl approaching him. "May I help you?" he drawled.

Mandy pursed her lips in a line. One eyebrow made a "V" as she stared up at him (curse being short!). "Well, the way you're lingering about, it seems like you need help with something." She smiled, though not kindly. "I've volunteered in here for years. Can I aide you in any way?"

Theo threw a haughty glance at the girl. "I assure you I am fine, I just have a few books to pick up. I don't need any of your help." He crossed his arms over his chest as he took note of her Ravenclaw robes. "Don't you have some studying to do?" He asked with a condescending tone.

Mandy smirked. "Oh, I'm certain I do, since it is all that I do do. But I can always take time out to help a student in need."

Theo's lips tightened. "As I said before, I am NOT in need of your assistance. Now run along..."

"Nott," snapped Mandy, taking a slight step to the side so that she stood directly between him and the Restricted Section, "I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes narrowed. "I beg to differ. Now GO!" He said the last bit with force through clenched teeth, he wouldn't let this little chit spoil his plans. "Are you sure you want to mess with me Brocklehurst?" He asked in reference to the rumors he was sure she had heard circulating about him.

The petite brunette was unfazed. She took a slight step toward him, hands still on her planted on her waist. "Try me."

What the bloody hell was it with girls at this school... was it something in the water, Theo mused agitatedly. He slowly pulled his wand out of his robes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He replied curtly.

She faltered for a split second. He wouldn't really have the nerve to curse her or anything... she was certain. So Mandy made no effort to move. Instead, her cheeks flushed stubbornly and crossed her arms. "Go on, Nott. Hex me and see what happens."

Theo cursed fluently under his breath. The bloody chit was ruining everything. "I won't do it here... you stupid girl!" He took a step forward and poked the tip of his wand to the skin showing from the collar of her robes. "But, that doesn't mean I won't later. You heard about the children didn't you... what makes any better than a defenseless child?" He pushed the point of his wand to emphasize his point.

Him jabbing her with his wand hurt, but she was determined not to show it. Instead she pushed his hand away and stared at him, unblinking. "Word to the wise, Nott, don't waste your threats on deaf ears."

Theo glared at her, this wasn't at all how it was supposed to go. He heard a rustle of paper across the library. Pince was no longer reading her magazine and it looked as though she was getting up to do the final check of the library. Curse the girl! She had ruined everything!

He shoved his wand back in his robes and leveled her with a stare. "You'll regret this Brocklehurst..."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm sure," said Mandy dryly. "Lovely evening, Nott."

Theo took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. He opened his mouth as if to finish her off with some biting retort and instead spun around and quickly headed out of the library.

starringangie — Wed, 01 Sep 2004 22:55:20 GMT

It was six o'clock in the evening when he arrived at Angelina's flat, a bouquet of pure white lilies in his hand. Easily undoing the wards surrounding the flat, he knocked, then pushed the door open.

Angelina and her five year old sister was busy in the kitchen, Angie grating cheese for a mac-and-cheese dish, Evie subsequently trying to sneak pieces of cheese when she suspected Angelina wasn't looking. Her beloved "Munkee" (as opposed to monkey) was seated at the table waiting patiently for dinner. Before Angelina could move to the door, Evie had crawled off the chair she had been using to stand level with the counter and ran into the sitting room.

Solan smiled when he saw the little girl bound into the sitting room. "Hey there, little lady," he greeted her. He pulled one of the lilies from his bouquet and handed it to her.

"Ooooh," she said with an impressive grin as she received the flower. "Somebody's at the doooooor!" Evie called to the kitchen, skipping back to the stuffed animal to show him her flower.

"Oh really," said Angelina, a large smile appearing on her face. She turned down the heat on her stove and wiped her hands on a towel by the sink before walking into her living room. "Fancy seeing you."

"Indeed," he replied, walking up to her and handing her the rest of the flowers. "Just dropping by to visit."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you did," Angelina said softly before looking over at her sister. "I was volunteered for babysitting duty today and tomorrow while my mum and dad try to get work done."

He gave her a quick hug, brushing his lips against the top of her head. "I see," he remarked. "And what might the two of you lovely ladies be up to?"

"We're making supper," replied Evie promptly as she strolled up to them. "I was doin' the cheese--"

"You were eating the cheese."

Solan laughed. "What are you making?"

Angelina grinned as Evelyn grabbed a bit of his robes and tugged, prompting him to follow in the kitchen where water was boiling and a pot of noodles was set out on the counter. "I'm in charge and Ange is helping."

"I see," the young man's lips quirked upwards. "May I help, too?"

"Sure." She glanced over her shoulder as Angelina strolled in and then said in a loud whisper, "You can eat the cheese too if she doesn't see you!"

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, walking over towards the stove to stand next to Angelina.

As Evelyn crawled back onto the chair and began sneaking cheese, Angelina smiled up at Sol. "So how was your day?"

"All right," he replied. "I have a small mountain of paperwork in the office due at the end of the week, but more time-consuming than difficult. How about yours?"

"Uneventful -- practice in the morning, stopped by my mum's this afternoon and picked up a monster, promised to keep her over night." She grinned and sprinkled diced onions onto the pan in her hands, "My boyfriend stopped by with flowers, which is always a treat."

"Your boyfriend is a very lucky man, I think," he said evenly as he stirred the noodles in the pot.

"Well, that makes me a very lucky woman," she replied in the same tone, pursing her lips, an impish look in her eyes.

He smirked at her slightly and took the noodles off the stove, pouring them into a colander to drain as he extinguished the flame. "I'm glad you think so."

Evelyn watched her sister abandon the onions and follow Sol to the sink only to put her arm around him. She watched them turn and stare at each other for a long moment before making a face. "Are you going to kiss now?" she demanded, wrinkling her nose.

"Something like that," the young man declared before pressing his lips briefly but firmly to Angelina's.

"Eeeww!" she squealed as Angelina blushed and giggled (much to her dismay). "Grossss."

He laughed, not too disturbed, and turned his attention back to the cooking for the moment.

There was brief silence as Angie crossed back to her cooking and Evie began constructing . . . something, with the left over cheese and a few noodles that were on the granite countertop. Then, as though the question was of little significance, she asked, "Are you married to eachother?"

At that question, Solan's eyes did widen a bit. The little girl was staring back at him undauntedly, ingenuously. "What do you think?" he asked. "Do you think we should be?"

Once again Angelina had to resist the urge to pounce upon her little sister. Halfway through the question she had realized what Evelyn was about to ask, but it was halfway too late, and all she could do now was turn red and pretend as though she had something to attend to in the other room.

Solan saw Angelina blushing out of the corner of his eye, but kept his expression tranquil. He looked at the little girl questioningly.

Evelyn shrugged and nodded, "Yeah, 'cause you're always kissin' and gross cootie stuff."

He laughed again. "I see. And of course, that's what married people do, right?"

"Yep." Evie tossed a small piece of cheese in the air and watched her big sister dash out of the room. "They kiss an' they give each other cooties and share juice and stuff."

"Really," he grinned down at her."How interesting."

"So I just thinked you were married," Evie explained reasonably.

"A logical assumption," he conceded. Leaning forward, he gave the little girl a conspiratorial look. "You know what, little lady?" he whispered. "I think I WILL marry her someday. Think that's a good idea?"

Evie nodded her head vigerously and dropped her voice to a stage whisper, "Yes!" She sucked on her lower lip, eyes big, "Am I not to tell?"

"Hmm," he considered. "Yes. Let's keep it our secret for now."

The young girl grinned and promptly covered her mouth with her hands and muffled a giggle.

He inclined his head in a mock-bow. "Thank you very much," he told her solemnly.

Evelyn nodded her head vigorously, but couldn't help giggling madly when Angelina returned.

Angie looked at her sister and shook her head. "What have you been saying now?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you," Solan remarked blandly.

She shook her head and gave Evie a suspicious look as she reached out to her and helped her down from the chair. "With her? I think I doubt it."

"She's almost as charming as her sister," he told her.

"Oh, I can only hope," Angelina said drolly. "You, monster, wash your hands please."

Solan grinned and helped Angelina set the table as the child scampered off to wash her hands. "We weren't saying anything bad of you, really."

"Mmm." She raised an eyebrow, "Was she delighting you with more potentially embarrassing questions?"

"Not really. Just telling me that married people share juice and so on."

Angie chuckled and shook her head. "Ah. Five year olds are very wise."

"Indeed," he reached around her to put down a napkin, and took the opportunity to quickly kiss her cheek. "I couldn't agree more."

"Didn't wash 'em!" Evelyn declared as she walked back to the table, hands behind her back. Angelina stood upright and put her hands on her hips. Before she could say anything, Evie cried, "April fools! I did already!"

"Now, now," Solan chuckled. "Don't make Angelina scold... shall we eat?"

Evie pulled out her chair and scrambled into it as Angelina held Sol a steaming glass pan, "Here you are . . . ." He helped her place out their dinner on the table. Inwardly she chuckled about her younger sister's commentary. She certainly spoke her mind much to Angie's dismay . . . . Asking if she and Solan were married, good gracious.

Solan smiled at Angelina as he poured her a glass of juice to go with her meal. Perhaps Evie just thought what he'd told her to be a thrilling little secret, but it was spoken in earnest.

He'd just have to convince Angelina of it sometime.

theonlyboot — Wed, 01 Sep 2004 22:26:53 GMT

Once again a number of sixth year Ravenclaws had assembled themselves on the grounds, attempting to study, for Mandy's sake. They were short another member (Stephen was working on a project in the library that afternoon) but Anthony, Kevin and Terry were in attendence, along with Lisa, Mandy and Michael Corner. Though Kevin had brought the ball to play football, it was seated a few feet away on the grass, just outside their circle of books and parchment, robes and ties. Terry had even brought his broom . . . and had earned a quick reprimand from Mandy, which he simply laughed off.

Lisa, having just completed her Charms essay, snapped her textbook closed and neatly tucked her assignment into her bag before reaching for her Potions things. "What are you reading, Anthony?" she asked, peering across the circle at the curly haired boy.

"Niccolo Machiavelli," he replied promptly with a sly grin. "The Prince and Other Writings."

Terry smirked and glanced up from his own work. "Fancy becoming a dictator, eh, Goldstein?"

"It's always the quiet ones . . ." mumbled Kevin, dipping his quill in the ink he balanced in his lap.

Michael Corner, who had been quiet behind Anthony, perked up enough to mumble succinctly, "Machiavelli was an idiot."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Not quite. Do you know just how many dictators, blokes who led effective dictatorships for decades, took a page out of Machiavelli's book?"

"Since when is a dictatorship effective?"

Jasmine walked up the knoll on her way back from Hogsmeade. She'd just bought a new set of quills and a roll of parchment, ready to transfer her lyrics to it for class credit. That wasn't quite accurate--the lyrics could still use work in her opinion, but the due date was drawing ever closer.

Just as Lisa was looking over to Anthony, listening to the beginning of what would probably be a long debate, she noticed a familiar face walking toward the castle, not too far off.

Jasmine looked around the grounds at the students enjoying the mild May day. She saw a group of students studying near the lake, and spotted Lisa, Terry and the rest of their housemates. Jasmine waved and continued to walk, thinking it wouldn't be appropriate to greet them more personally.

"One second," Lisa mumbled, moving her things to the side neatly and brushing the back of her skirt before striding off toward her friend. "All right?" greeted Lisa with a slight smile.

Jasmine grinned. "Just dandy. How're you doing? Studying hard, I'm sure?"

The Ravenclaw rolled her eyes. "Something like that. Where are you off to?"

She nodded her head towards the castle. "Work, work, work, is all it is. I'll talk to you later . . ."

"Do you want to join us?"

Jasmine's eyes darted to the group, then to Lisa. "I don't want to intrude . . ."

Lisa grinned and linked her arm with Jasmine's. "There's nothing to intrude upon. Two people are bickering over some Renaissance bloke's philosophy on how to dominate society. The rest of us are just sitting there relaxing."

Jasmine chuckled. "The recreational conversations you 'Claws have . . ."

"Well," replied Lisa with a wink as she guided Jasmine to the group, "It's either that or we have another jelly bean eating contest."

"That sounds, er, fun," Jasmine said with a skeptical glance Lisa's way.

Lisa laughed as they approached the group. "Make space," she said simply, pushing her things aside and falling into her seat next to Mandy. Kevin scooted over, nose buried into his work. Michael and Anthony were still caught in heated debate. Terry glanced up from his Transfiguration textbook and smiled slightly.

"Hi," Jasmine whispered shyly to Terry. She gave Lisa a look of 'what am I supposed to do?'

Mandy, who had been particularly thankful that the boys weren't playing a game and that Lisa wasn't encouraging them, had been deep into her homework. However, the sound of a new voice amongst them made her perk up. She raised an eyebrow and looked up at Jasmine. "Hullo."

"Hi, I'm Jasmine," she said, holding out her hand.

Lisa's dark haired friend reached her arm in front of her best mate, "Mandy. Nice to meet you."

"What are you studying," Jasmine asked, taking her bag's strap off her shoulders.

Lisa looked down in her lap. "Ugh. Snape."

Across the circle, beside Anthony -- who was now chuckling while Michael seemed to be growing more irritated -- Terry was closing a book and putting it into his bag. "I think we've done enough that we've earned a break, right, Brocklehurst?" He grinned and glanced at Jasmine, adding as an aside, "She was upset we goofed off last time we tried to study."

"I see," Jasmine said. "This is why I study alone, so I don't have to worry about things like that."

"But being distracted is the fun part," finally piped up Kevin, a wide grin on his face. He pushed off the ground, stood and stretched. "And I agree. Break time."

Lisa nodded slightly. "Can't we all be?"

Mandy nudged Lisa. "Um. Hello?"

She laughed. "Most of us, can be."

"What does that mean?" Jasmine asked.

"It means--" interrupted Terry, standing a couple of feet away and picking up Kevin's foot ball, "That Mandy thinks she can't be distracted, should she decide to work." He laughed.

Jasmine chuckled. "You're a better girl than I. It takes very little take my attention if I'm bored by the task before me!"

Mandy smiled slightly, a rarity when she was around newcomers. "Eh, we won't mention the fact that my mind wanders whenever Snape speaks."

"I actually like Snape . . ." Jasmine said quietly with a small shrug.

Mandy looked over at Jasmine, shrugged slightly and twisted a lock of her dark brown hair around her finger. "Oh, I didn't mean anything against him," she said before closing her book and putting her things away.

"I didn't mean to imply that you did," Jasmine said with another small smile.

Jasmine stood, brushing grass from her skirt. "Well, it was nice meetin' y'all," she said, falling into her slight Southern accent. She gave a last small smile to the group and started for the castle.

Lisa shot a glare in Mandy's direction, earning a 'What?' expression.

Terry, however, gave the ball a hard kick in Kevin's direction. "Be back," he said quickly, turning and following after Jasmine.

Jasmine didn't know how to feel about that meeting. Everyone was nice enough but to her it seemed, maybe forced? It didn't matter, though; they lived in different houses anyway.

"Oy," called out Terry, slowing as he caught up with her. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "What's happened?"

Jasmine shook her head. "Nothing's happened . . . just gotta go." She glanced at him with a half-smile. "Thanks for asking, though."

He paused and fell into step with her. "Well . . . you jumped up so quick . . . . Where are you off to?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I dunno, really. I just didn't want to break up your group . . ."

Terry frowned. "You weren't breaking up the group."

"Okay." She sighed. "Well just the same, I reckon I should go. I'm takin' you away from your game, no?"

He paused and cocked his head to the side, studying her. Finally he crossed his arms and said, "I don't know why you would think that."

She stopped walking and stared at him. Truth was, she didn't know why she thought that, either, and she gave a sheepish smile. "Habit, I guess . . ."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Ter shook his head again. He didn't want to press on, if she didn't want to. Though it bothered him she always seemed to get down on herself. "Perhaps we could hang out some other time, if you have somewhere to go?" he suggested.

She grinned. "Really . . . ."

He smiled slightly. "Sometime this weekend, maybe?"

Jasmine grin widened. "I'd like that. Thanks."

"All right." He nodded slightly and tried to temper the smile on his face. "This weekend, then."

Jasmine adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "What time?"

"I could meet you outside of Hufflepuff around four on Saturday, if that's all right."

Jasmine bit her lip and nodded. "Now I have another reason to look forward to Saturday." She waved slighty, shyly, and continued on to the castle, welcoming the butterflies in her stomach and the grin on her face.

Terry exhaled slightly as he watched her walk away from him. Still smiling slightly, he turned and jogged back into the group, plopping down in the place he'd marked as his own and reached into his bag.

Mandy looked up from the work she had started. She furrowed her brow slightly, taking in Terry's changed attitude. "What's with you?" she asked.

"Hmm?" He asked, ignoring Kevin and Anthony's snickering. "Nothing. Why?"

She stared at him a long moment longer, but sensing he wasn't about to say anything else, Mandy sighed and turned her focus back to her work.

theodore__nott — Wed, 01 Sep 2004 01:23:57 GMT

Theo had felt the eyes on him all day long, ever since the article from the daily prophet had come in with the post. He hadn't helped the situation in the least, neither denying nor confirming his whereabouts. Let the bloody fools think what they want it didn't matter to him. A small part of him wanted to question why it was that the children had been hexed, but he suppressed the questions and reminded himself that there was a reason, there was always a reason.

He headed up to the library. The whispers in the common room had quickly progressed into full out talking and he hoped that at least in the library Madam Pince would see to it that mouths remained closed and that was all he asked.

Pansy left the confines of the library as it began to fill with students ready to spend their post-dinner hours in study. She was distracted - had been distracted for weeks - by the knowledge that there were Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, so close to school, kept away by Merlin only knew what wards. She wondered how others could manage to keep their heads to their studies.

Pansy was exiting the library as Theo approached. He inclined his head in way of greeting and raised steely eyes to hers. "Pansy."

Pansy froze. She'd not been so preoccupied that she'd not heard the rumours .. that he had been there when those children had been hexed by Death Eaters. Thoughts of the children inevitably led to thoughts about Viola, which inevitably led to disturbed snatches of sleep, and from time to time, completely sleepless nights. "Good evening, Theo," she said. She thought about pressing on toward Slytherin commons, but some part of her simply had to know. "Might I have a word with you?"

Theo raised an eyebrow. "I suppose. What might you need to know?" He asked coldly.

The tone of his voice raised the wispy blonde hairs at the back of Pansy's neck. "I'm sure you've heard what's been circulating around the common room... rumors about that hex attack. They say that you were there," she said, her spine straight and her tone serious.

"People say a lot of things, I thought you knew that," He responded with measured tones. "What does it matter, it was just a hexing. It's not as though any of the children died."

Pansy's ears registered the "crack" long before she realized that its cause was the vicious slap she'd just given the Slytherin boy. It's not as though any of the children died... "Because of course it's not an atrocity unless some child is brutally murdered!" she screamed then, her face pale with shock and contorted in fury.

A small pack of fifth year Slytherins, already exchanging heated whispers about the article in the Daily Prophet and if the rumors were true, saw their upperclassman and admired witch of their house slap the rumored culprit across the face. Her scream echoing in along the corridor, they began to move toward the two, all eyes narrowed, all expressions accusing.

Theo stared blankly at her; he kept his hand from drifting up to cover the red handprint that throbbed on his cheek. "You might want to calm down Pansy, it's rather unseemly." In the corner of his eye he could see a gathering of students approaching rapidly.

"Bastard," she whispered angrily, fixing him with a look filled with rage before she turned toward the stair that would lead away from this place and to the familiar comforts of Slytherin commons.

"Perhaps Pansy... Perhaps..." He murmured as she walked off and the press of students moved to take her place.

One of the taller boys, a younger member on the Quidditch team, sneered at Theo. "What was that all about, Nott? Not bothering our Princess are you?" There were angry murmurs from the other students, all glaring.

Several of them had younger siblings who were still crushed over the death of their friend, Pansy's little sister. Other's had brothers or sister younger still... closer in age to those of the children who were hexed. Alliances to Dumblodore of Voldemort forgotten, they were all prepared to gang up on this "monster". Doubly so because of their admiration for Pansy Parkinson, "Princess of Slytherin".

“It's none of your business boy." Theo addressed the boy who had spoken to him with a cool superiority. "I suggest you leave before you say something you will regret."

Had the lad been on his own, he might have headed those words. Theo was, after all, a year superior and while not well known, certainly respected to an extent. The boy was not alone however, and numbers made him foolhardy. "I'd say the same thing about YOU... you're the one outnumbered Nott. Not that YOU'd care... especially after taking on a whole class of children..."

The group crowded in threateningly until someone, strawberry blond hair standing out among the dark head and black robes, forced their way through the circle to stand right between them and Theo. "He did no such thing," said Sally-Ann Perks firmly.

Theo started. What the bloody hell was she doing? Why was she defending him, for all she knew he had done everything they said.

"What are you doing?" He hissed in her ear before he looked back up at the crowd, knowing that they would soon start in on the fact that a girl was standing up for him and he would rather she be spared that.

Sally didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the students in front of her. The speaker for the group actually had to look up a little to meet tall girl's eyes, but that didn't intimidate him in the slightest. "Look, you Huffleduffer... you don't know what we do. You don't know..."

"I don't need to."

The fifth years stared at her as though she had gone insane. "What do you mean...?" one of the girls started to ask.

"There's no proof," Sally clarified for them, calm as you please. "Everything you suspect is just that: speculation. There's no proof he did anything."

Theo stared in shock. She was defending him and quite effectively at that.

He glared at the boys. "You heard her now leave." When they hesitated he took a menacing step forward. "GO!"

The group slowly started to disperse, muttering among themselves. Several turning around to throw threatening glances but the rest moved on peacefully murmuring about Sally's words.

Theo turned to Sally. "What were you thinking?" He asked sharply.

A knowing smile appeared on Sally's lips. "That it's rather unfair for such a big group of people with not a single lick of evidence to gang up on one person." Her eyes showed no wariness or distrust; only warmth and faith... faith that he was innocent.

Theo blinked and then shook his head. "You don't think I did it..." He found himself sputtering. Disgusted at himself he straightened his shoulders. "Didn't I tell you once to watch out for dangerous Slytherins..." He trailed off trying to restore his unflappable exterior.

"What, them?" She asked with a tilt of her head. "They wouldn't have dared try to pull anything out in the open like that. And right near the library too... Madam Pince would have been on them in a heartbeat. Slytherins are the clever ones, remember?" She winked at him. "They're not stupid enough to try anything like that with so clear a disadvantage."

Theo continued to stare at her in disbelief. "No... I meant me. You should be worried about being alone with me; after all I likely hexed a classful of children." He shook his head again. "Never mind..." He took a step away from her his mind muddled in confusion. "Why did you do it though? You don't know whether they were telling the truth or not...:"

Pausing, she studied him for several long moments. Finally, she said quietly, "Honestly? I don't think you're that sort of person. You wouldn't do such a horrible thing... because that's not you. I have no other reason."

Theo's mouth gaped open. He snapped it shut after a moment. He tried futilely to respond several different times. Instead he found himself slowly backing away from her. "You don't know what sort of person I am then, do you..." He whispered, but there was little meaning to his words. He knew in his heart he wouldn't have wanted to hurt a class full of children but what really cut to the bone after her words was that he realized that even if he'd been ordered to do so by Lord Voldemort himself he wasn't sure if he'd have wanted to do it... if he could have done it. Swallowing audibly he took a few more steps back. "I... I should go..."

Sally's eyes became suddenly round with worry. "Are you okay?" she asked, taking a hesitant step toward him. He seemed horribly shaken. "You don't look so well," she murmured softly. "Should I get Madam Pomfrey?"

He shook his head furiously. "No. I'm fine. I just need to get back..." He had been about to say the common room but that wouldn't be an appropriate location. "I just need to get some work done... in the library."

He straightened his shoulders and steeled his features. He turned and walked towards the entrance to the library. As he reached the doors he spun around briefly to look back at her. In a quiet voice he hoped she couldn't hear he whispered, "thank you Sally" and disappeared inside the doors.

He didn't see the happy smile blossom on Sally's face... nor did he hear her whispered answer, "You're welcome." He didn't even see her beam down at Abby, who had watched the whole thing from a window ledge, preparing to jump to her mistresses aid should the need arise. And he didn't see when she grinned at her familiar, saying, "I told you he's not a bad person."

And he didn't see when Abby nodded, finally believing her mistress.

_mbletchley_ — Tue, 31 Aug 2004 23:49:06 GMT

Pansy,

What in the deuce does Cassius mean by he's upholding his promise?! What in the world happened?! I need to know everything. Are you all right? What can I do? I'm very worried about you-- there are very dangerous men and women who pose a serious threat... already one student has died!

PROMISE me that you'll take care. I'll be seeing you to ascertain that you are well for myself in the near future, this I promise you.

DO NOT HESITATE to owl me with ANY concerns.

I need to hear from you.

~Miles