REPOST : incomplete

29 June 2005
Great Hall
The Leaving Ball

*Rodolphus enters the room with Andromeda on his arm, feeling a swell of pride and sheer satisfaction that everything is as it should be. The Mudblood Hufflepuff is nowhere in sight, though he can see Diggle in his usual ridiculous headwear on the far side of the Hall.*

It doesn't matter. Nothing can touch me tonight. This is my last night at Hogwarts, and I'm going to make the most of it.

*He reflects that most seventh years are probably going to drink themselves stupid and end up snogging or fucking someone as a toast to nostalgia, and smiles a little, glad he isn't so foolish. He knows what awaits him in December when he and Andromeda are married, and Rodolphus is nothing if not patient. Tonight he plans only to give her a pleasant evening, to fill her last night here with memories of him and no one else.*

*She moves her hand to brush back a strand of hair, and the ring he gave her sparkles on her finger. He smiles and touches her hand.*

Would you like a drink or a dance first?
this is my 'there she goes' face

REPOST : incomplete

4 June 1976
North Tower, Hogwarts

*The round room isn't quite at the top of the North Tower, but it's close, and Ted is still catching his breath from all the stairs he jogged up to get here. An abandoned classroom, the dusty desks only fill half the floor space, while the walls alternate between ceiling-high bookshelves and windows with windowseats. Ted thinks it must have been a Charms classroom, what with the cushions stacked against the far wall, but he's too distracted to ponder the past generations of Hogwarts students who sat classes in here tonight.*

*He finds the clock; it's just after ten.* She never said what time she'd come... it doesn't matter though, I can wait. *he's having a hard time doing that, though, jittery as he is with nerves and apprehension. For three weeks now he's been living in a state of disarray and denial, not entirely sure he's still in the world he knew. The times they've been alone together have been surreal, leaving him feeling dazed and a little lost. He wonders if everyone who finally gets something they've wanted for years feels this way; if it's a feeling that will last, or if he'll get used to it. He hopes he has time to get used to it.*

*Ted looks up as the door clicks open and she slips quietly into the room. A smile breaking over his face, he doesn't say anything, just walks toward her, meeting her almost in the middle of the room. He leans against a desk, a little awkward, and smiles down at her, thinking for the thousandth time how lovely she is, and how stupidly lucky he must be.*

here goes nuthin' -- incomplete

29 June 1976
The night of the Leaving Ball
Slytherin chambers, 7:30pm

*Lucius took one last look in the mirror.* Presentable, *he thought, allowing himself a smile. He still had half an hour or so before he had to make an appearance downstairs, and he was pleased with the result of his efforts. Deepest green was definately the right way to go, even if the cliche wasn't entirely lost on him.

He routed in his bedside table drawer, and brought out a flask, taking a quick swig before stowing it in his robes.* Better already. *He wasn't looking forward to tonight, perhaps because it was clarification that this would be the last time he would be attending a formal occasion here, but perhaps because there was slight apprehension about leaving, even for him.* Last time to make their lives hell,* he thought wryly, before brushing his fringe out of his eyes, turning, and leaving for the common room, preparing to wait until Narcissa was ready.

The common room was empty, bar a group of second years huddled over a game of snap. He settled on a couch by the fire - which was glowing, even in the heat, more for effect than any practical purpose - and waited, wondering how he had managed to be the first ready.*


11 June 1976
Quidditch Pitch

*The Hufflepuff team is finally finishing their practise and drifting to the ground, Meadowes still calling reminders after her players as they dismount and shoulder their brooms, heading toward the showers. It's a week till the Cup, and they're looking good.*

Not as good as us, *Gideon whispers in his brother's ear, watching Meadowes, the last to land, shove the Bludgers back into the case and mobilius it in front of her as she strolls toward the shed.*

*With a wink, Gideon darts out from behind the bleachers and takes one handle of the case, Fabian typically reading his mind and grabbing the other.*

*cheerfully* Oi Meadowes, allow us.

(no subject)

7 June 1976, 7:08pm
Quidditch Locker Room

"Potter, you need to be faster on that left-winging dip up, a'right, mate? Hopkirk, work with him on that first thing tomorrow's practise, yeh? You two need to carry that together. Ros, luv, you're doing beautiful things, just tighten up your backhand. Brisby! You're blocking six out of seven, I need it to be seven out of seven. Bloody eight out of seven, if you can give it. Smythe...Smythe, I have no immediate advice except to shower. Put the Snitch back first, kid." Fabian grinned and ducked into the boys' locker room. It had been a good practise. The other lads followed him in and the birds went off to their own locker room. Once inside, he hung back long enough to sling an arm around his twin's shoulder.

"Gid, my lad," he said in a low voice. "You smell of yesterday's very sweaty laundry. I prescribe a shower, a good washing, and to stop flinging bludgers right at me."

Gideon, mirroring Fabian's conspiratorial whisper, murmured, "Bean, my lad. You smell of lies and conceit. 'Flinging bludgers'--nonsense!" He grinned, and his voice returned to a normal volume. "What other lies can you spread?"

Fabian pulled away, and smiled like a cat that had got into the cream. "Just that Dorcas Meadowes informed me she'll be going with me to the Leaving Ball." He swept up a towel and swung it over his shoulder. He swaggered over to the showers, leaving a flabbergasted Twin behind him. "Don't know why, but who'm I to say no?"

A long moment went by, and Fabian reached the showers still smirking. "WHAT?!" Gideon yelled behind him. "But I asked her!!!"
watching, irritated

(no subject)

12 May 1976
2nd Period (History of Magic)

*Lily has never been so glad to be in History of Magic; certainly, she enjoys the note-taking and has always found much of the subject interesting. mainly, however, she's glad Professor Binns never asks questions.*

*she slumps into her seat, her terrible mood written plain across her face. after trying to say Good Morning to Phinn in Care of Magical Creatures and coming out with nothing more than a "Quack," she didn't speak again all period. Sirius Black seemed to have the same problem, which fascinatingly enough pointed at the culprit...*

*who is currently sauntering in the door, gabbling to Peter Pettigrew. Lily scowls down at her parchment, and, on impulse, tears a corner off. she scribbles fiercely for a moment, and when James takes his regular seat behind and to her right, she shoves the scrap of parchment at him*

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16th June, 1976
Slytherin Common Room, 7pm

*Rabastan is lounging, as usual, on "his" couch, in the corner of the rather-empty Common Room. he can't remember anymore whether he went down to dinner, and spends a good ten minutes debating it with himself. finally, he decides he went down early, and he goes back to watching the dust motes float in the dying sunbeams. ah, relaxing. it is a beautiful thing, when one doesn't have Quidditch practise*


*he considers that for a moment. he probably does have Quidditch. right now, even. and the game's only a couple of days away. sodding hell. that would explain why the Common Room's so empty. frantically (well, lazily, really), he thinks back--now he remembers someone trying to wake him up from his after-dinner nap.*

Bugger bugger bugger. His great Ponciness will kill me.

*the thought of Lucius Malfoy trying to decapitate him for missing practise fills him with nervous anxiety. he half sits up, wondering where he can hide* Maybe he'll believe dinner made me sick...

*the door to the Common Room opens, and he jumps. he calms down when he sees who it is, smiles even*

Oh, hallo, Bella.
watching, irritated

(no subject)

21 May, 1976
9:37 pm, Gryffindor Common Room

*Lily Evans is another year older, technically, but she doesn't feel it. right now, she just feels worn out and a bit cranky. it's her birthday, for pete's sake--yet she still had patrol duty tonight. she takes a moment in front of the Fat Lady to gather herself; for the past two years, there have been ridiculous gatherings in honor of Sirius Black's birthday (which she has the misfortune to share) in the Common Room. tonight will be no different*

*she makes a sound that is suspiciously un-wordlike (rather more a strangled "yergh") and speaks the password. the Fat Lady wishes her a Happy Birthday*

Just open the door. *she sighs*

*the door opens and she's bombarded by light, color, sound. every Gryffindor (except her, of course) seems to have turned out for Black's extravaganza, and there is a table that contains probably illegal beverages. there's strange and rowdy music coming from somewhere, and above the moving throng...*

*Sirius Black is dangling, shirtless, from the ancient chandelier suspended over the room. fabulous*

*Lily starts to push her way through, intent on getting up those Girls' Dormitory stairs*
it's your move.


13 June 1976
Quidditch Pitch

*Marisa is slouched against a goal post, her books spread out around her and an inkwell next to her foot. Her robe and tie are in a pile next to her, and for once she's grateful to be wearing a skirt instead of trousers. Really, she wishes she were home in Wales, where the oppressive heat would be tempered by the wind off the sea, and she could be reading a well-loved novel instead of her Potions homework.*

*thinks irritably* Merlin, is it hot enough? *slaps at a mosquito on her leg.* Inside is worse though- either the library full of overexicted hypertense fifth and seventh years, or the common room full of Bellatrix glaring at me, or worse, Narcissa and Lucius mooning over each other... now we're out of the running for the cup he's got nothing better to do than snog... they're disgusting...

*absorbed in her train of thought, she doesn't notice someone's approaching until a shadow falls across her book, and she looks up, annoyed at having been discovered.*
always having more fun than you, laughing, prongs

12 May 1976, Great Hall, Breakfast.

James jerked his neck sharply to one side and grinned in relief at the series of loud pops that emitted from it. Remus next to him grimaced and shook his head. "Sleeping in the shower getting old yet, James?"

Shaking his head, James reached for a scone and buttered it. "Bloody hell no. But as you well know, I am neither one blind to certain defeat, nor likely to go down without a fight, and so if you will observe carefully..." pausing mid-sentence, he reached for the plate of scones and took a small bag out of his pocket. It was full of what looked like chopped up berries, which James shook onto the plate of scones. A wave of his wand sunk the pieces into the scones, and James satisfiedly put the plate in front of the seat that Sirius would occupy. Thanking Merlin once again for McGonagall's insistence on having Sirius meet her early to discuss his latest detention, he looked sternly at Remus and Peter. "One word and you two can consider yourselves unfriended." Peter looked suitably worried, but Remus just rolled his eyes and went back to his book.

What James had, in fact, put on the scones were chopped-up bits of one of Bott's Specialty Beans. Sold separately from the Every Flavor Beans, these caused unfortunately unusual reactions in the people who ate them. They only lasted a few seconds, so one didn't have to go about whistling and emitting steam like a teakettle or trumpeting like an elephant for longer than necessary. But James had doctored these a little, soaking them in a time potion he'd brewed himself so (he hoped) about ten minutes after Sirius finished eating one of the scones, he would be unable to speak English. Instead, every time he tried to talk, he would quack like a duck. This would last about two or three hours.

No sooner had James resumed sipping at his hot chocolate than Sirius crashed into the Great Hall and flopped down in his seat, outraged and bemoaning his latest detention. James hid his smile in his cup as Sirus grabbed a scone and stuffed half of it into his mouth. At last, success... Playing it cool, he made all the appropriate noises of dismay at McGonagall's pronouncement (he did agree, four nights of detention with Filch just for Shrinking Greta Catchlove's blouse was a bit extreme- really, he understood it was embarrassing, but the way her buttons popped off had been priceless) and waved a cheerful goodbye when Sirius stormed off to Care of Magical Creatures. God, I wish I could be there to see him...

The smile slid off his face a few seconds later when Lily stopped, said, "Oh, we didn't get scones at my end of the table," and walked away thoughtfully munching on one before any of the boys could stop her.

Remus just looked at him with a look half sympathetic, half amused. "I hear India's lovely this time of year."
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