little bird

Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and it is there that you will always long to return.

[indeterminate-endings-blog]

I can understand not wanting to think about it but…I am starting to get worried like…what if it happens again? Should we do something? Do you…feel safe?

[emmafayevanity]

I never feel safe.

[indeterminate-endings-blog]

So hey, have you thought about the…disappearances?

[emmafayevanity]

I've tried not to.

[apeterpettigrew]

Oh yeah, that could be a problem. You can forget I ever said that and make it appear effortless for the rest of the school year if you’d like.

[emmafayevanity]

Yeah a little bit. I don't know about you but I'm not confident about anyone performing memory charms, let alone me.

[benjamin-fenwick]

Oh, God. I couldn’t afford that bet even if I could assure success. You win.

Isn’t it? It’s better than all these essays and practise exams.

[emmafayevanity]

I assure you neither can I, but I'm that confident that everyone would just lose house points and get detention.

And the reward we get for doing them after this Summer? 'Sod off and get a job', hardly seems worth it.

[apeterpettigrew]

Yep, hasn’t Severus complained about us in the common room? You’re fine; definitely a better prefect than most I’ve seen in my years here.Why thank you. A lot of work goes into being that funny.

[emmafayevanity]

I wouldn't know. I'm not sure if you've noticed but he's hardly a social butterfly, is he. You've ruined the illusion now, it looked effortless.

[apeterpettigrew]

No, but it would definitely fit into the marauder party area. Let’s face it, he won’t. But we can live in hope that one day maybe even James Potter will succumb to the Hogwarts rules.

[emmafayevanity]

That's what the four of you call yourselves isn't it? I suppose this doesn't make me a very good prefect, but sometimes you lot can be quite... quite funny.

[benjamin-fenwick]

Not if we kill it first, that is. I say riots.

[emmafayevanity]

I'd bet 50,000 galleons that that wouldn't work.

But it's a lovely thought.

[apeterpettigrew]

Maybe, maybe. So far the only ideas I’ve heard have been twister and sending people to far away countries. So anything will be better than the second one. Though I’m not sure if there’ll be much butterbeer and firewhiskey involved because both head boy and head girl will be attending!

[emmafayevanity]

Sending people to far away countries, I have to admit, that doesn't sound like a Gryffindor kind of party. James Potter sticking to School rules? I can only imagine why.

[lilyjohanne]

Oh, um, thank you.

[emmafayevanity]

Eighteen's a huge one, I hope you're doing something nice.

[benjamin-fenwick]

I’ve been so buried under work lately, I haven’t had time for any fun.

[emmafayevanity]

NEWTs are going to kill me. I can feel it.

[lilyjohanne]

It’s my birthday!

[emmafayevanity]

Many happy returns!

[apeterpettigrew]

One that’s good for any type of party is preferable. You never know what could happen at a party.

[emmafayevanity]

Are you going to be starting everyone off with a round of duck, duck, goose then? I thought it'd more likely to be Save the Dragon or Wands Up, Wands Down.

[wutms]

Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Vanity. Even if I don’t look perfectly fine, I am.

[emmafayevanity]

You're right, what was I thinking. I just know the look of dark rings under the eyes from a fading glamour charm and jumped to a conclusion.

[apeterpettigrew]

What’s a good party game?

[emmafayevanity]

That depends on what kind of party we're talking about.

[wutms]

Oi, stop looking at me like I’m going to faint. I’m perfectly fine, I promise.

[emmafayevanity]

You don't look perfectly fine.

[prongsrides-deactivated20141015]

The Beautiful Game | Open

James’ impatience ran high on Quidditch days. He woke up early, ate quickly and got down to the pitch before the rest of the castle so much as twitched in their beds. He was lying back on the pitch now, broom beside him, staring up at the goal posts. 

It certainly hadn’t helped that this year - his last year, and the year that fighting between Gryffindor and Slytherin rarely just boiled down to a simple rivalry anymore - the season had been pushed back. He wanted to win. More than that, he wanted to humiliate them - punish them, even. 

Quidditch had never just been a game to him, anyone who knew him knew that - but it was different this year. Uglier, too. He already felt angry and the game hadn’t begun yet. It wasn’t sporting but  … James shrugged. There wasn’t much he could do about that - he was just as swept up in the tension-filled atmosphere as everyone else. “Playing Beater never had so much appeal to it,” he muttered to himself. 

[emmafayevanity]

Emma's eyes snapped open to the dim grey-green glow from behind the curtains of her dorm. A great snore rumbled from two beds over- Alecto of course- gave her an inkling as to why she was awake at what must be the crack of dawn, although there were no sun-facing windows in the dungeons after seven years Em had become rather adept at reading the time from how much light was filtering down from the lake. It had only just recently began to thaw, no longer covered by a great sheet of black ice that blocked out any of the weak winter light that might have tried to reach the depths.

A moment later Emma realised another reason for her early rise. Match day. It was ingrained in her she was sure of it. Five years of the build ups on such mornings had made sure she was awake and she forced down a deep sigh at the thought that there was no reason for it anymore. There was no way she was going to be able to roll back into bed and sleep until noon, not even if she tried. The great pull that seemed to come from her very bones drew her from her bed and forced her into her dark grey riding robes, there was no uniform for her anymore. 

Although she no longer needed to host practices she kept her broom in perfect condition; tail twigs trimmed, fully polished and dusted but left to slowly weaken in the broom sheds. It felt as though a great punch winded her as she stepped out onto the pitch for the first time since returning for seventh year, if she were a witch who cried she might've at that moment. The stark stillness of the morning was surprising, since the snow had cleared up with the coming of rain the utter silence it had brought with it had been supposed to dissipate but it definitely hadn't. That was why she flinched at the slight mumbling, which might have been a trick of her hearing had she not spotted a flare of scarlet sprawled on the ground below the posts. Manners got the better of her and instead of turning and fleeing she chanced a few steps nearer, anxiously rearranging her hands around the hilt of her broom. 

"Potter."

[anneevans]

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