Discover Top Posts Tagged with #tempusstarter

“Eet cannot be. Eet ees too ‘orrible.”

#fleur is a sad baby because remus is her friend and he left #also because tonks is her friend and she is sad #tempusstarter

Working at Gringotts — not for, but at, a distinction that brought a groan to Bill’s lips any time he thought too long about it — had been enjoyable at first. Maybe he wasn’t horribly interested in sorting through paperwork and organizing trips for his coworkers, but he had often been excited about going out for lunch. They gave him an extra hour (perhaps because they knew that without it Bill would be too restless to get much completed during the second half of the day), and he used that time to explore Diagon Alley. He visited the shops no one had really heard of and wandered until he brushed up against the residential areas. When he ran out of brightly lit stores and houses bursting with flowers, he had even dipped into Knockturn Alley, appreciating it not for its dark nature but for the small amount of thrill and danger it had offered. He learned the sorts that wandered from store to store, carrying unknown items in black bags and keeping their eyes from catching that of any other browsers.

So when he saw someone with innocence in their step and eyes glancing around the crowd desperately, Bill knew that they had stumbled into the wrong street and gotten turned around, quite possibly confused by all the shops with mirrored windows and blackened doors of Knockturn. He could either mind his own business, or step in and offer a bit of help -- and was that even a choice, really?

“ I’m thinking that you might’ve gone astray. Diagon Alley’s a good ten minutes away. Need me to walk you back? ”

#tempusstarter #p #l: knockturn alley

“—We really should get some better coffee in ‘ere. ‘Ow we are supposed to fight wiz just thees in our system is beyond me.”

#tempusstarter #GUESS WHO IS TOO LAZY FOR ANYTHING REAL

JE SAIS PAS ; 1996

She had never meant to look like a rainbow. And it wasn’t that she was wearing a lot of colour, because Fleur Delacour had more style than simply relying on dazzling those around her with neon, thank you very much. It was that in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the damp, dark lights of the old house, she stood out. Pretty little Fleur was all light cracks and watching the shadows flee from her skin as she made the endless walks from sink to cabinet again and again. Molly would never let her help with the real cleaning jobs at the house, making snide jokes about nails that she might break under her breath. There was a part of her, catty and vile, that wished she could reply how a little housework wouldn’t break them, but that the scratches Fleur had been leaving down her son’s back would certainly go a long way to doing so. As it was, she’d scribbled the remark on the top of her leg, just under her hemline, so that she might remember and recall the story perfectly when she saw Tonks later that night. As it was, she was wasting her lunch hour cleaning the good china and deciding that it may be prudent of her to order in the coffee that her own mother liked so much, at least might give everyone the life they needed to survive the next week. Though Bill swore he saw no flaws, she’d begun to see dark eyes staring back at her in the mirror. So lost was she in the menial task, and her own aimless wonderment, that she didn’t notice the person come in behind her - which was made especially embarrassing by her own singing.

“—Dtourner des rivires, porter des poids, traverser des mers, je saurais faire.”