heaving through corrupted lungs

robert nott seventh year ravenclaw

[outspokenly-blog]

i need you so much closer | robert

[outspokenly-blog]

It wasn’t the first time in her life that Della simultaneously regretted and also loved the fact that she had been drinking. She liked it for the confidence and the buzz and the easiness of everything swirling and blurring together. But she regretted it because she couldn’t think straight and she couldn’t walk straight and she couldn’t speak straight. And she wanted to, once and for all, get things proper and straight with Robert.

(Thanks, okay? Fucking — thank you. Now stop being a twat and come back to the party. Please.)

Except those weren’t the words that came out of her mouth. The alcohol messed with her head and twisted at her insides and entwined the fuck yous with the I cares until she wasn’t sure which one was which any more. She stood in silent, frowning at her bare legs and his clothed ones, splashed with little droplets from the pool. Her hand was still on his shoulder and if her brain were working logically she would remove it and walk away and find the party and a drink and a guy that she can pretend she wants to sleep with. 

Except she didn’t and she couldn’t and the fuck yous tangled with the I cares all over again when she opened her mouth. And then she was saying it and she didn’t mean to say it but she fucking said it and couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past her lips. 

“I need — you to care. I want you to stay because you care ‘bout me. Jus’ fucking… fucking stop.”

Their legs and the ground ceased to be the focus of her gaze as she looked Robert in the eye, blinking rapidly to try and focus through her blurred vision. And then, before she even knew what she was doing or why she was doing or anything beyond drunken wishes and fuck yous and I cares and wanting to fucking win one over Robert Nott, she was pressing her lips against his. Tangled thoughts became tangled bodies as she stood on her toes and pressed herself closer to him, lacing an arm around his neck. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” she mutters against his lips, as if it’s his fault. But it’s all her. Della wins with her lips and her body and her loud parties with too much booze because it’s all she knows. The only way she’s ever been able to get people to stay. And it was the recklessness and stupidity that she chugged down from a bottle earlier, too. 

It’s the alcohol she could taste against his lips; burning and tingling and reminding her how impulsive and rash her actions her. It was the alcohol that ignored that side of her mind, too, blurring her thoughts until she couldn’t possibly imagine them every making sense.

“Fuck you,” she whispered again, but it was aimed at herself.

[robertnott-blog]

This wasn't supposed to happen. 

(Not in any other alternate universe, past life, future life, whatever - just never. Not even now. 

Especially now, Robert thinks.) 

For a moment there was silence between them, her hands resting on his shoulder, their bodies just barely a few inches apart. Until -

I need - you to care. I want you to stay because you care 'bout me. Jus' fucking… fucking stop, her voice was buzzing in his ear, and there was the pounding, distant and faint, coming from the prefects bathroom. The music that was drowning out his thoughts, the alcohol that clouded and tainted his judgements. 

Because somewhere in between the I need you and fucking stop, the lines of what he knew he should do and what he couldn't help himself do - the right and the wrong - blurred. 

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Her lips pressed against his. His lips pressed against hers. She tasted like alcohol - burning, heated. Red. He feels her arms lace around his neck as his fingers barely and lightly brushes through the contours of her jawline, finally entangling in-between the loose strands of her hair. His other hand travelled the down to the small of her back as he pulled her in closer, until every inch of her was against him.

He pulls away slightly, his lips grazing over hers. "Fuck you too," he manages in between breathing. Fuck you because this wasn't supposed to happened. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you because of the alcohol. Fuck you. But fuck you, again, because once again, he finds his lips locked with hers and he is trying but the kiss was slowly tasting like guilt and temptation.

[robertnott-blog]

an owl to the headmistress,

[professordry-blog]

Mr. Nott,

Despite what you seem to believe, nine different students seem to view you as a suitable choice - surpassing the six votes of the student who came in second place. And it is worth noting that both Miss. Elba’s and Miss. Wood’s votes were both uncounted due to putting you in many different positions. (And if the problem is that you would feel more comfortable acting as fourth year female over seventh year male then I do apologise, but I can’t offer any assistance beyond passing on that Professor Valance’s door is always open if you wish to talk.)

Moving on, if you still wish to decline the position even with the knowledge that the student body believes you to be the best choice then arrangements can be made. However I advise you to consider this carefully, Robert. It is your final year with us and not many students get the chance to say they’ve been a Hogwarts prefect. It would do you well to be more involved with school life. Perhaps it would encourage you to go to class more often.

- Professor Hurst

[robertnott-blog]

Professor Hurst,

I don't care about the position OR the title that goes with that position. I don't care if the student body voted for me because they see me well-suited for the position. I am not interested And it would be better if it is given to the person who came in second place.

I admire the sort of faith you have in me but to be quite frank, Professor Hurst, don't waste your time.

I am still certain about the resignation.

Thank you.

- Robert Nott

[robertnott-blog]

an owl to the headmistress,

Professor Hurst,

I'd like to resign from my position as seventh year prefect. Who, in their right minds, would elect me as prefect? Trust me, this is a joke pulled by Elba and it is not in the best interest of this school to have me as prefect. At all.

Perhaps, Malfoy would be a more suitable choice...

- Robert Nott

[robertnott-blog]

marmoreal

...What?

[robertnott-blog]

Malfoy wants to know how you have all the girls flocking to you when he has the same morals as you do.

Malfoy wants to know?

Are you Malfoy's secretary you're sending his owls for him? Then again, I shouldn't be surprised because he does have his Slytherin gang to do all the dirty work for him.

They're flocking to me to get on my nerves.

[robertnott-blog]

it's yours.

Go away.

[robertnott-blog]

things i owe:

nott/emery

nott/richmond

hannah/bran

hannah/krissi

hugo/grayson

roxanne/tj

roxanne/damien

[robertnott-blog]

i awoke only to find my lungs empty and through the night; so it seems i'm not breathing, and my dreams were nothing like they used to be. | emery

[emeryhaines-blog]

The Kitchens were so large - low counters, simple and wooden, lined the walls and beneath were packed with the gleaming pots and pans - brass, silver, plain ol’ metal, copper, stone - and what couldn’t be fit was stacked, almost to the ceiling, against the walls. Four tables were the centre of the colossal room, quite similar - if not identical - to the long house tables above. Currently, only empty plates and silverware was arranged on them. Probably in preparation for tomorrow’s breakfast. Emery wondered what they would be having - French toast? Eggs and ham? An assortment of pancakes? Her da could make amazing pancakes, sometimes making it into different shapes. Her favourite was in the shape of Mickey Mouse, complete with a syrupy smile.

All of this, staring around the room, watching the few elves that were up and about, was done to avoid looking at the older occupant of the room. Was he a seventh year? Sixth? She didn’t want to look again, to figure out, because he just looked…rumpled? Was that the right word? At the very least, he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. Which was explainable - most people didn’t like waking up in the middle of the night. 

The elf from earlier came back, this time baring a tray with a large porcelain mug. She beamed delightedly at the sight, quickly sticking her wand in the small band of her nightgown to carefully take hold of it’s handle. “Thankth,” The elf scampered back to its duties. Emery cradled the mug in both her hands, taking an experimental sip. Finding a little too hot, she swallowed and winced as the hot liquid burned the inside of her throat. To soothe it, she licked at the large mound of cream the elf had topped off her beverage with. 

She kept looking around her, holding the mug close. It warmed her hands and the steam felt pleasant on her face. She was really just content to pretend the guy wasn’t there, because that’s what he seemed to do, but then he startled her by talking. Emery jumped, almost spilling her hot chocolate, and flushed. 

“Hi!” It was a little too loud and she hid behind the whipped cream, taking a sip despite it still being too hot. She could have taken it was an invitation to sit on the stools around him, but no, she just kept standing in the middle of the door way, just a hairs breath away from the actual door. 

[robertnott-blog]

Pleath - a word Robert had suspected to have actually existed; only, he had never heard it before in his life. (Too many words in the English language anyway, and most of them were synonymous to one another) And then, it was followed shortly by thankth. Thankth. Thanks, he decided. Suddenly, it was starting to make sense to him - whoever was speaking had a sort of lisp. 

In return the girl said hi, but even then, to Robert, it seemed less welcoming and a bit more scared than a usual greeting. She remains standing by the door way and Robert remains a certain distance away from her. The cigarette still hangs from between his fingers. He taps it, letting the ashes fall down on the wooden desk before he looks up and looks at the blonde haired girl again.

He is certain that she's a fourth year - too small for a fifth year - and she's unusually quiet. The last fourth year he had encountered didn't end too well and - ugh, he can't remember her name…. Julia… June…. whatever it was Creevey… - had landed him in detention for doing absolutely nothing. Regardless, that wasn't a very a good impression that she left on Robert for what fourth years were like.

Don't they just get dumber as they become younger? he wonders. He can't even remember how he was a fourth year. Distant, definitely. Didn't care for much, as always. Picked up his first cigarette when he came home from the holidays. Right. That was how it was like when he was fourteen. 

He gestures over at the empty wooden stool across from him. "You can stand there in the doorway looking particularly out of place or you can sit over there," he finally says, shrugging. "Your choice." It was a suggestion - a rare one, only because he doesn't usually suggest people to sit with him. But there seemed to be nowhere else to seat in the kitchens, and for now, he didn't mind letting her take the empty seat.

Maybe, he thinks. She doesn't talk much.

[outspokenly-blog]

i need you so much closer | robert

[outspokenly-blog]

Her skin still crawling from the unwanted touches (Too much like back then, she thought. Too much.) she clambered up and out of the pool, following behind Robert. Her instincts told her to stay in the pool, to let him leave, to get so fucked up that she was beyond caring. Despite how intoxicated she already was she still fucking cared.  And it wasn’t the case that she didn’t want him to leave, it was the case that she wasn’t going to fucking let him. Her playing field meant her rules and she would be damned if she let him seize the victory once more. 

“Nott!” she shouted, her calls getting drowned out by the music. “Fucking — Nott! Jesus, wait.“ 

The wet, tiled floor made it near impossible for her to run and catch up with him, scared that if she went too fast she would break something. If she succeeded in catching up with him before he left, she didn’t even know what she was going to say to him. All possible combinations of words and sentences didn’t fit right together in her mind, all blurry and confusing and nonsensical due to the drink.

Just fuck right off.

And there, complicating things all over again, was the fact that Robert Nott had come to her aid. Although Della was as far away from a fucking damsel in distress as possible, she didn’t want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t stepped in. (Too fucking much.) Thankful, that’s what she was. And for all of three seconds she could kid herself into believing that it was all she was. That the only reason she was following after him was because Della Richmond didn’t owe anybody anything and she wanted him to know that helping her out didn’t mean she was any way indebted to him. When three seconds had passed she found herself cursing inwardly. At him, at herself, at the scumbag who tried to feel her up. Because what did it prove? That Nott was capable of human decency and didn’t want to see somebody’s personal space violated while they were unable to properly defend themselves? Or that, perhaps, Robert Nott cared because it was Della Richmond.

Even in her drunken state, she couldn’t fathom how such an idiotic thought had wormed its way into her mind.

“Robert!” she shouted, loud enough to be audible to his ears as she quickened her pace. Before she was even aware of her movements, her hand had reached up to his shoulder and she had moved her body in front of his, trying to block him from escaping. “God, just stay. I don’t want you leave. Not fucking all over again.”

[robertnott-blog]

Nott- 

He doesn't stop. Her voice was faint in the background of the music.

Fucking - Nott! Jesus, wait.

He continued walking; doesn't wait for her and completely ignored her call. Pushing the prefect bathroom door open, he could hear the music fading out in the background. And then, silent. Suddenly, the air was less suffocating, as though he was being strangled. The openness of the castle corridors have never been so…vacant, he thinks to himself. 

Robert Nott tells himself, at that moment, the reason why he did that. He didn't do it for Della. For fuck's sakes, even he knows that Della Richmond could take care of herself. She was no more a fucking damsel in distress than he was a fucking knight in shining armour. Too childish, he thinks. So unlike them. And it wasn't for Richmond, the way he told the guy to fuck off. It was because no one else was doing anything - all too consumed about their own selfish business - to stop the inappropriateness of the other guy. If anything, Robert Nott was Della Richmond's last resort in the situation.

God, just stay. 

(But Robert Nott never does the staying. Robert Nott does the walking away. Always. Because that was what he learned time and time and again)

I don't want you to leave. 

And then, he stopped. (Not fucking all over again) He could feel the cigarette shrinking in size - almost burning his hands so he flicked it off, letting it fall to the ground before he turned around to look at her.

"What do you want?" he asked. 

For himself, he wanted to leave. He didn't look for a thank you or any sort of recognition. He just wanted to leave (before the alcohol sinks in and the cigarette haze veils his better judgements)

[robertnott-blog]

Look here, Nott. If all the girls want to invite you for private time in the Room of Requirement after classes, it's not my problem. But if you're getting anybody to vote for you then it's going to end right now. You may want it, but you can't be sixth year female prefect. Or fourth, fifth and sixth year boy. If you're putting people up to this then stop it, princess. - Puckett

Puckett, 

Do you really think I have enough fucks to give 'd care enough to actually go through the trouble of running for Prefect or Head Boy? Rest assured, professor, whatever is going on, I'm not behind it.

I am not interested in being bound by the duties and responsibilities of prefects or a Head Boy. 

Leave me out of this.

- Nott

P.S. Although, you may try owl-ing Lourdes Elba for an explanation.

[robertnott-blog]

ooc: 

(ignore this beyond the read more)

idiots

emery/nott

rox/tj

rox/damien

landon/calen

[outspokenly-blog]

i need you so much closer | robert

[outspokenly-blog]

Della sighed, rolling her eyes as she leaned over the side of the pool. Brandishing her firewhiskey as if it were a weapon, she used the neck of the nearly empty bottle (that was too many nearly empty bottles for her to count and most definitely enough to tip her past the point of merely tipsy) to stab in the air at his direction. 

“You fucking — fucking always leave,” she shouted, attempting to talk loud enough so that her voice was audible over the cacophony of yells and laughter, blending with the music. It was the wrong time to be bringing up the issue. Not with those conditions; music, drugs, alcohol, raging hormones, nobody with right minds in the room. Yet it was the only time to bring up the issue because of those conditions that allowed her. Robert Nott was not a social person; parties didn’t fit him right, that much was obvious from the exterior. But Della Richmond had perfected the art of loosing herself to the atmosphere and surrendering to the lights and noise and this was her solid ground, her playing field. 

Whether it was for courage or for the buzz she got or simply because she liked the taste of fire, she knocked back the last of her drink and winced slightly at the sharp taste. 

“So go on then. Leave.”

Still looking pointedly at Robert, she let herself glide backwards and pushed herself slightly away from the edge, treading water. Whether it was because of the courage or the buzz or the burning sensation still lingering on her lips, she couldn’t resist shrugging her shoulders slightly and raising an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a challenging smirk. “Or… you could join me?”

The small moment of satisfaction she gained from her refusal to believe that he would indeed take his exit from the party - again, stupidity: a side effect of drunkenness - was cut short. Della was thankful that the water wasn’t very deep. If it had been, she would have slipped under for sure as her balance and concentration were lost due to the presence of another body pressing against her. The short distance between her back and the side of the pool was removed as a tall, sandy blonde leaned into her. His breath reeked of alcohol and weed and his hands had decided that they had permission to try and wander wherever the fuck they liked. “Ugh, you’re sucha — fucking babe,” he slurred in the same husky tones that had whispered the “Hey, baby” to her earlier. Her immediate reaction was to push him away and use all her physical strength (which wasn’t all that much, really - a fact she detested to no end) to try and stop him from practically grinding into her. 

“Fuck! Fuck you, getoff!” she yelped, pressing her body as close to the pool wall as possible to increase the distance between them as much as she could muster. Her cheeks burned, knowing Robert Nott was witnessing another instance of her proving just how weak she really was.

[robertnott-blog]

You fucking always leave.

Her voice rang in his ear, the music buzzing just in the background. The statement, it was an accusation. He could hear the way she said it in, the tone mixed in with the the slurred words escaping her lips. But it was true; even Robert knew it was true. But fuck it; he had learned a very long time ago that everyone leaves in the end. No one actually ever stays. Why should he ever feel like he should stay? For her (with her, even) of all the people in the world? He didn't owe her anything. He wasn't obliged to stay. So, he left. Always the first one to leave. Always. Fucking always, as she worded it so… accurately.

The first time, after all, he had had walked away leaving her in tears in the courtyard. The second, he closed the door and left her inside an empty classroom, making sure they don't ever talk about whatever just happened between them. To pretend. It was better that way anyway, for the sake of both of them. Because to him, whatever Della Richmond was on and whatever drove her to say the things she did, it seemed rather embarrassing.

Now, in the midst of all buzz and inebriation, Della Richmond continued to humiliate herself even more in front of him as if she didn't manage to do that already when she's sober. "No, thanks," he replied after she gave him the option of joining her. He finally stood up from where he sat and took one step forward as he began his way out. 

Until of course, he was stopped; witnessing before him Della as she yelped, body pressed against the pool wall while a sandy haired blonde moved in closer and closer. He sighed, looking around if someone would do anything. Just waiting, for a moment until he realized that everyone else was busy doing whatever the fuck they were doing - obviously too preoccupied with their lips and their bodies touching. 

Robert stood, one hand buried inside his pocket, the other then cigarette that was just getting smaller and smaller with each passing moment as he stood by. "Hey," he said, gesturing his head toward the other guy. "Fuck off." 

Standing by the edge of the pool, he crouched down and shrugged. "No one," he replied and he was probably right. He was probably just no one to Della, anyway. "Just fuck off right now."

"Why? Is this your girl?"

"No."

She wasn't Robert's anything.

"Then you go fuck off," the other guy said, finally climbing out of the pool and walked towards Robert, pushing his shoulders as a move to only aggrivate Nott even more. But, Robert was never one for physical violence. Punching, kicking, and tackling was not exactly his tactic in fighting. So, he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the other guy and whipped it as he muttered a spell under his breath, causing the sandy blonde haired boy to fly off. A few people had looked at his direction, and he shrugged tucking his wand back into his side pocket and placed the end of his cigarette between his teeth.

He didn't turn to look back at Della, and instead, continued on his way out.

[outspokenly-blog]

i need you so much closer | robert

It was not in Hogwarts that Della expected to find herself the middle of a throng of bodies; bare skin pressed against bare skin, flecked with droplets of perspiration and pool water; music magically amplified to provide a pulse and rhythm to the entwined couples, kissing and dancing and kissing. The scene reminded her of the hot, bright lights of party nights in London with too much touching and not enough alcohol to make it okay. It was an instinct of hers to go for the booze first and barely moments after she entered a half empty bottle of cheap red wine was thrusted towards her by one of the night’s first casulties, from the looks of it. Della didn’t argue; she tipped up the bottle and drank. 

The sharp, sour taste of poor quality alcohol stung the back of her throat, but she barely grimaced. Slipping back into the shoes of the London party girl was too easily done for her liking, even sans the shoes. 

Air. She needed air. She needed to go to her dorm and get some air and leave before she screwed something else over (or screwed somebody else). Except the other half of her rebelled against that. Alcohol and kissing and water and hot skin pressed against hot skin, that was what she needed. This was a party, wasn’t it? So she should fucking party. It was with that mindset that she found her personal space being shared by another, wanting to trade the rim of his glass for her lips. And if not for the clearly drunk whispers of “Hey, baby” she almost would have let him. But it was too much like the summers she so longed to erase from her history - the addictive life of getting so fucked up that you don’t care who you’re fucking. The fact that she did and pushed him off was just a sign to her that she needed more than the last few sips of wine left. 

Her liver and throat were assaulted by all manner of fiery substances in the chaos that ensued. She was thankful for the water then, to cool the heat radiating from her body. Bedraggled curls slicked to her face and the scarlet swimming costume she borrowed from Dom clung to her curves even more. The lights and the music and the people blurred to make one and she found herself slipping easier into the party. It was in her nature, as much as she resented the fact. But in the midst of the blurred, dizzy images and shapes, he was there. Sharp and solid and a bitter reminder of where and who she was. 

It was tempting to act as if she had never seen him, but the alcohol brought about a new reaction in her and rather than running and waiting for people to leave all over again, she wanted to confront and make him stay. This was a party, wasn’t it? So he should fucking party. (Except the alcohol clearly brought about a stupidity in her, too, because of course Robert Nott wouldn’t fucking party.) 

“You’re meant to fucking join in,” she yelled after knocking back another burning mouthful of her drink and wading through the water until she was at the edge of the pool, closest to where he was sitting alone.

[robertnott-blog]

The last thing Robert expected to be doing on a Friday night was to be surrounded in a room full of barely dressed, half-naked (or at least, more than just half), intoxicated teenagers, bodies pressed against each other as they moved to the rhythm of the music; swaying, touching, grinding. He was never one to particularly enjoy these types of gatherings; always finding himself absent. But he decided to go when he had received the invitation on top of his bed the other day - partly out of curiosity wondering to himself what the big deal was and maybe for one night just fuck all. 

Robert looked almost out of place. In the midst of exposed skin, he was dawned on his school uniform. (The only idiot who would go to a pool party with clothes) His shirt, half unbutton exposing his neck and down just barely his chest. He sat by himself; a cigarette in one hand as he smoked and dangling from his finger was a half empty bottle of fire whiskey. A cigarette and a bottle of alcohol were his only companions because even in a room full of people, Robert Nott could still sense that he was alone. He could feel the beating of the music throbbing from the back of his head; pounding like a hammer against an anvil. He pressed the bottle against his lips; bottoms up, as he tilt it, his throat burning as the drink washed down. 

He looked into the crowd before him - it was barely late into the night and he'd already spotted an unknown Hufflepuff girl locking lips with some Gryffindor boy. And his gaze travelled from across the room. It would be a lie if he said that he hadn't even seen her, dancing - his eyes travelled down to the contours of her body -  and then pushing a way some guy before her gaze met his and he quickly looked away, placing the cigarette between his lips and smoked.

That was enough. He'd seen enough for the night, expecting for the rest of the evening to just result in more reckless actions that everyone will regret in the coming morning. He had enough sense left in him to see where this was going. So, he took one last swig of his drink, before placing the bottle down on the floor. Only, he was stopped by her before her could get up and make his exit. You're meant to fucking join in, he heard her say only her voice was being drowned out by the music.

"Yeah, forget it. I was just about to leave," he replied, but he remained seated, the tips of his fingers tapping against the cigarette while the ashes fell to the ground.

[robertnott-blog]

when the sun goes down; an asw pool party mix [ listen/download ]

o1. teenage crime - adrian lux // o2. never let me go (aeroplane remix) - the human league // o3. good life - kanye west (feat. t-pain) // o4. growing pains - la roux // o5. love lost (keljet remix) - the temper trap // o6. sophisticated side-ponytail - natalie portman's shavedhead // o7. i lay my head (shook remix) - fallulah // o8. i blame coco (shook remix) - quicker // o9. french kiss - the teenagers // 1o. 212 - azealia banks (feat. lazy jay) // 11. whatever you like - anya marina // 12. a-punk - vampire weekend // 13. tessellate - tokyo police club // 14. harmonium - rogue wave

[robertnott-blog]

robbie it wASN'T MEE

You're drunk.

[robertnott-blog]

Sometimes I imagine buying a puppy with you. Sometimes I imagine having flour fights with you while baking cupcakes for our one year anniversary.

Elba, stop it.

[estriges]