Sep 6, 2015
“James, hello?”, Charlie exclaimed, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Will you stop daydreaming and actually clean this bloody trophy? I want to get out of here as soon as possible. And you’re not helping.”
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“James, hello?”, Charlie exclaimed, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Will you stop daydreaming and actually clean this bloody trophy? I want to get out of here as soon as possible. And you’re not helping.”
[ summer 1976 ]
“Kate- you’re aware that my parents are muggles, right? This thing isn’t magical,” Charlie said, gesturing to the object in the other girl’s hands.
[ 20th of october, 1976 ]
Charlie looked up at him and gave the boy a forced, small smile when he put his books on the table the two of them now shared. She kept looking at him for a few seconds, knowing that her posture was rather defensive, expecting him to say something offensive or to find a look of contempt on his face; neither happened, which she found... strange. Charlie’s eyes were now on the teacher, paying attention to the explanation about the potion they would be making. “Do you have some lavender left? I need two more.”
"Oh, boohoo. Are we doomed to be locked away because some silly little girl was stupid enough to get herself into trouble?”
Honestly, considering all of the things that could happen tonight further than the attack, students up and leaving was the last of what Lennox knew anyone needed. Not only were they looking for Rosmerta Daniels, but now there was a group of vigilante students off to find her as well. He admired their reasons, however their choices were far from what was needed. They could get themselves killed. “They’ve just gone? Oh Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.”
Lucius was among the stirring bodies, caught between hushed whispers of panic -- a single soul among many. As rumors and present evidence had presented, a girl was missing from the crowd, suggested to have been captured or killed or lost; those were the theories at least. Personally, he didn’t care either which way. He wasn’t frightened by the prospect of Death Eaters, not in the slightest by those who he could have called his brethren. Rather, he was draped languidly against a wall, arms crossed without a care. And when eyes were drawn to him, heavy with disgust, he wondered -- did that make him a monster? Yes, he supposed, it did.
They shared fire whiskey and spliff. She hadn’t judged Lucinda, she didn’t even pry -- she was just open and listening and talking and there. In return, she had gotten closer to Lucinda in days than many had in years. Side by side. Exceptional.
“Missing?” What a suggestive, sinister word. She couldn’t take it in, Lucinda refused it.
-----“Don’t you dare tell me my panicking isn’t doing anyone any good.” Charity’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh and tense, the fact that she was fighting back tears making her almost angry at the way some people were talking. This was unlike her --- Charity wasn’t angry, Charity didn’t snap at people --- and she would feel an immense guilt if she wasn’t trying so hard to keep it together. “REALLY, what do you expect it to do? Make me feel better? Well, it’s not working, so please just leave me alone.” Looking up, tears burned in her eyes, and she didn’t even realise that the person in front of her had not said anything, and her attack had been incredibly uncalled for.