Discover Top Posts Tagged with #dated. march 1980

WHEN: 16 March, 1980 WHERE: 18 Styring Street, Banchory WHO: John Dawlish ( @dohnjawlish ) & Marlene McKinnon

“I haven’t been here since January, I don’t think.” A cool wind gently whipped the corners fo her face as Marlene opened the door of 18 Styring Street, one that she had probably trapped inside the last time she’d locked the door behind her. “Ignore the dust.”

#c. john dawlish #c6. john dawlish #dated. march 1980

WHEN: 26 March, 1980 WHERE: Hogwarts somewhere ~~~ WHO: Danny Geist ( @dannygeist ) & Hestia Jones

Hestia Jones, on principle, was a punctual being, and of that fact, she was particularly prideful. Which was why, as she raced up the corridor to her professor’s office, her cheeks burned bright red---not from the effort of making it to the right place on time, but from the embarrassment that she had come so close to not making it on time at all. But that was nothing compared to the embarrassment that awaited her. As she swept the loosened hairs back into the once neat bun atop her head, Hestia felt her stomach drop clear to the floor. Because there, also waiting in the corridor, was Danny Geist---a stranger in nearly every way, except for one important exception: Sturgis Podmore.

It was with a great lump in her throat that Hestia made the decision to stay, rather than to run away like a coward. She took a seat on the bench across from Danny and pulled out a book, keen to ignore the wizard before her.

#c. danny geist #c1. danny geist #dated. march 1980

Marlene ⟶ Lex

dated 13 March, 1980

Marlene: Are you a virgin?

#im sorry im sorry im sorry #c. lex bragnam #c3. lex bragnam #dated. march 1980 #iflown.

WHEN: 6 March, 1980, afternoon WHERE: St. Mungo’s WHO: Dawn Withey ( @dawnwitheyy ) & Marlene McKinnon

Marlene had hoped, perhaps foolishly, or naively, or with purposeful ignorance of the proper order of things, that Dawn wouldn’t be allowed visitors at St. Mungo’s. But a week had come and gone now since the Quidditch match, and not a single one of those days had passed without someone coming round to announce a visit to the ward, and a cheerful enough update on Dawn’s condition. Marlene had been thankful for the updates, but with each of them came something else: a nugget of guilt, coated in a fresh sheen of terror, which she always promptly wrapped up and stowed away with the rest, with all of the skeletons in her closet.A fter a long shift at the gym on Saturday, when Marlene went to stow another little nugget away, the haphazardly stuffed closet combusted. She could carry no more guilt.

Marlene paced outside the entrance to St. Mungo’s for the next twenty minutes at least, with her jacket zipped all the way up to her nose, and her scarf pressed tightly in the space between. At last, she dove inside, with both a running start and her hood tucked over her head. She did not care to debunk her idea of the hospital smelling like death, she rambled to the Welcome Witch, as the risk of affirming it was much too great. It was a relief for both of them when she located Dawn’s room number and sent Marlene on her not-so-merry way.

She could not reach the room soon enough---and yet, once she was there, Marlene hesitated again. What was she so afraid of? she wondered. Surely not the yelling, or else she would have waited for Dawn to come back to Low Street for that. And what reason was there question the state of Dawn’s recovery? Hadn’t everyone said she’d been doing well? With her bluff half called, Marlene reached for the door handle, and finally let herself in.