lie still bag of bones

Verity M. Jones

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

Well,

I didn't get to know most of you like I would've liked,

but I can still say: it's been great. You guys were such an awesome atmosphere and you all loved your characters very much; I could tell. I'm a little sad I didn't get to stay longer, but... yeah. I know I didn't know any of you very well, outside of Liz, but, well, if you want to make friends I have

my personal.

It was very fun while it lasted and I enjoyed my stay. You all are incredibly gifted and you brought all these characters to life, just as the books had. Thank you.

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

Mail Call | Lee n' Verity

[leejordantruthteller]

“Ahhh, so you were the one who magicked open the door,” said Lee. Hank nodded and slid a hefty box towards Lee across the counter.

“Thought you could use some help. Skeeter’s dreadful. She’s been sniffing around all week looking over people’s shoulders in line and bothering my customers,”said Hank. 

“And you, I bet,”said Lee wrinkling his nose in disgust.Rita Skeeter made his skin crawl. He had wanted to burn the sweater her perfume had contaminated, but realized it would be another instance of him overreacting. And it didn’t seem right to burn a sweater from Mrs. Weasley. 

“Yup,”confirmed Hank.”You owe me, Jordan.”

“Ah. My rescuer asks a favor from me. Name your terms, sir,”said Lee signing his name at the bottom of a form. Hank studied Lee for a moment,”You seeing anyone?”

Lee smirked. He rested his arm on the counter, held the completed form out and leaned forward,”Are you asking me out, Hank?”

“Not me, you idiot,”said Hank snatching the form.”My niece.”

Hm. It was just a blind date. It wouldn’t mean anything. It might even be fun. And he did owe him.One date. 

“One,” emphasized Lee, “awkward date beats being one of Rita Skeeter’s headlines. Yeah, sure.” 

“Good man.And you never know, you might like her.”

Lee smiled, but even if he did end up liking her he wasn’t ready for anything like that. Not yet. And he would make that very clear. 

He shifted the weight of the package off the counter and into his arms. The woman to his left said his name and he turned cautiously.A ping of recognition sounded in his head and all thoughts of Rita Skeeter trying to pounce on him again vanished. Verity Jones. He grinned right back at her. He couldn’t see her grin as it was hidden behind her cozy looking scarf, but the corners of her eyes were crinkled in a friendly way. 

“Verity? Excuse me,” He pulled her scarf down just a bit. “Yeah, looks like you.Hey. What are you doing here?”

He hadn’t seen her in ages. In fact, their little pen pal correspondence had been the lengthiest conversation he ever had with her.The initial letter he had sent her had been part of his second attempt at re-establishing contact with people.He wasn’t sure why he had sent her a letter. They hadn’t been close,but Fred and George had thought well of her. That was reason enough.There had been no grand plan concerning her particular little letter. After all, he had sent Oliver and other people he had been closer to letters, too.He supposed there had been the vague notion she or the others would be able to help him…help George.

Verity’s response had been a welcome surprise on the day Lee received it. However, Lee hadn’t actually summoned up the courage to pick her brains on the subject of George. They’d been trading letters back and forth for quite sometime, but the topics were light and diverting. And so very different from what Lee was surrounded by everyday. He was stunned to see her. Lee hadn’t mentioned where he was, but neither had she. Had she done this to surprise him? Was this a chance meeting? Was she here to visit George? Did she even know he was at Hogwarts?Was she visiting someone else? She had a letter in her hand. She was sending a letter. 

“You’re sending something.Uh,” Lee shuffled out of the way and set the package down on the floor. 

This, this, was unexpected—a welcome, positive, kind of unexpected. He’d had quite enough of the other sort. Verity Jones in Hogsmeade. This was fantastic. He didn’t know what to say now. He had dozens of next sentences running around in his head. One of the benefits of a letter trading based relationship was Lee had had time to collect and choose what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with excited and curious words.

That was a definite possibility. She was right there. He wouldn’t have to worry about Bridget dropping his letter or have to wait for a response.He wouldn’t have to worry about whether his handwriting was legible or not. They could have a proper conversation. She had a healthy sense of humor on paper and she had worked at the twin’s shop. Verity looked well. That was a good sign. 

Lee briefly wondered what George would say about Lee agreeing to go on a blind date and Verity showing up at the Hogsmeade Post Office all in one day.

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"Oh," she breathed, and pulled down her scarf more after he done so. It tried to drift back up, but she tilted her chin in order to shove it beneath, keeping it tucked. "Yeah, sorry. I was kind of ninja'd up there. It's cold outside; don't know if you've noticed." She smiled warmly, as if to counteract the temperature. "But yes! It's me! Hi." She ended a little awkwardly, her smile picking up on the quality. It had been quite some time since she'd seen Lee. Well, not if she really thought on it. He had been there, once or thrice, at Fred and George's shop. He'd popped in for a mo' to visit and she had greeted him then - but whenever he had dropped by, she'd been busy. A pang riddled in her guts and her brow dipped into a frown. Once again, the feeling had coming. The feeling of missing something oh-so-dearly...

But Lee. Yes. Lee. Lee, still retaining that handsome quality not just in his face but in his eyes, and always very pleasant. No matter which way you looked at him. She had deemed him as kind and had never thought to retract the in-mind-compliment. He'd been nothing but nice to her. And it seemed to remain the same now. Verity tried to cancel out the awkwardness that lugged around in her chest, and when he brought attention to her letter - she burst into realization.

"Yeah," She side-stepped with him, remaining in front of him. She reached out with it, giving it a wag of offer. "It's actually for you, funnily enough. So. No point in sending it now, eh? I get to keep my sickle." Her nose scrunched up in amusement and her eyes collected it, too. Her gaze dodged down to his package, and she tilted her head; curious. "I don't know if you want to read it now or when you go... home?" She turned her head by the chin, eyes narrowing with uncertainty, half a question as she spoke. "Or whatever."

The awkwardness had reared it's head, as it had done with Leanne. But not George. Then again, George she knew a little better. 

She stepped back, the dirt on the bottom of her boots crunching. There was a smudge of mud up the side of her jeans, and on a further inspection, it ran up the back of leg, too. Frowning, she bent to swipe at it. It didn't help her to like the crappy weather.

"So, you look well. How've you been?" She stood straight again, dusting off her hands and crossing a leg in front of the other.

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

Mail Call | Lee n' Verity

If Verity crossed her eyes, she could see just how red her nose was. Even better when she sniffed lightly, making the tip perk up as her nostrils flared. Bloody cold, and she hadn't even been out for more than a minutes. Her fingers, even secured inside form fitting gloves, held a quiver when she pulled her scarf tighter and tugged the edge of it up over her face. It gave some resistance to the light wind just enough to make it bearable, and to settle a content sort of feeling in her chest. Her coat was not designed to retain or give warmth, thus she had to keep restoring warming charms on herself. Verity had no real intent to be out in the cold longer than she had to - especially since all she had to do was go down the road to put in a letter with the Hogsmeade Owl-Post. 

But none the less. 

She ducked her chin towards her chest, tucking it in behind the front of her collar. Her eyes darted along the layout of the village, fingers still holding on to the edge of the Broomsticks door, half-reluctant to leave the warmth inside. It was snowing, but very lightly and if she hadn't been looking for it - she wouldn't have noticed all that much. They left pinpricks of cold on her skin, clung to the swoop of her bangs and the curve of her lashes. Whatever managed to speckle her skin did not last long. 

"I'll be back soon," called Verity, tossing the words over her shoulder. "Just popping down to visit Hank."

"Bring him my regards," said Rosmerta, nodding as she slid up to the length of the bar to tend it. Verity nodded and returned a given smile, fingers wiggling in a slight wave, before she lurched herself out. The wind tackled the fringe of her scarf, throwing it about as she walked, but it didn't bother her otherwise so long as the heated charm was at work. Under the tread of her boots she could feel where ice laid and where slush was, which brought a new consciousness to the way she moved. Slipping and sliding down to the Owlery was not exactly desirable. She had already slipped that morning, taking the stairs of her parents home too fast into the street. They had carried a shine that she had not acknowledged, and Bob's-your-uncle - she flew off the edge and hit the pavement hard. Her tail bone throbbed with the memory, and her walk turned to wiggle as she tried to shimmy it away.

Time passed quickly in silence, and she was stepping into the handsome little shop before she knew it. In turn, each hand took off the glove from the other, jabbing them both into the grip of her mouth to free her hands so she could extract her letter. Hank smiled at her, but was busy with someone else so she did not fetch his greetings right away. No mind, she thought pleasantly. She had the time, really. It was a sluggish day so far, and if that luck kept up - The Three Broomsticks wouldn't keep too much company and she could probably set about getting renovations done.

"Oh." She murmured, staring at the blank envelope. She hadn't addressed it. Frowning, she stretched her arm out to grab a quill from a small pencil bucket, dabbing it into the ink well that sat beside it for exact purposes. Her scrawl was smooth if not messy at the edges, but the name was legible.

L. Jordan.

Keeping in contact with Lee had been an unexpected thing. Consistent letters back and forth about nothing in particular, but she hadn't really thought about breeching into a world that lived outside of what their favourite vegetable was or animal. They'd never been more than on a name-basis, but Verity could see the shape of friendship in him. It had just been awhile since she'd either seen or spoke to him. So; letters. She was mostly busy and she figured he was, too. She didn't mind. Then again, she didn't mind much. Or perhaps it was that she wasn't expecting much out of anyone, or putting them on pedestals; not after events that seemed so recent still. She only asked what they could give her, and did not mind what was result.

Verity blew the ink dry, gave it a bit of a shake for good measure, and turned to grin at Hank - but it was robbed from her face in order for surprise to take residence. Well son of a bitch, she thought, and smiled widely; her cheeks perked with the stretch of it. 

"Lee." 

The greeting in the simple form of his name was muffled - her scarf was still pulled up over the bridge of her nose, but her eyes glinted with her usual kindness.

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

[lynxanne-blog]

Building Houses || Verity & Leanne

[lynxanne-blog]

The mention of Hufflepuff as being a supportive reason had Leanne grinning ear to ear, echoing Verity’s own expression. “Unafraid of toil!” She chimed in, nodding in agreement. As Verity continued, Leanne listened aptly in admiration. The respect dimmed in intensity and was shoved into a corner of her mind when concern took the spotlight as Miss Jones sighed. The blonde seemed quite troubled and Leanne wished there was something she could do—but their unfamiliarity restricted her severely.

It was always such a bother, the initial process of getting to know someone, to get over the awkwardness. Of course it could be exciting and new as well, but in a time like now when the offer of a shoulder would only be stilted and rejected politely, the sensation of ropes crisscrossing across Leanne’s chest would appear.

It seemed her choice of conversations had Miss Jones in a state of deep contemplation as well as possible remembrance? It occurred to her that perhaps a change in pace would do; lighter and more airy conversation would maybe soothe Miss Jones’ brow.

The inflection in the elder girl’s voice was pure angel food cake. Sponging in the pleasant feeling, Leanne half smiled and ducked her head to stare into the goblet of almost gone Butterbeer. “I could always tell you if they’ve gone back, Miss Jones…That is, if I know, of course.” Voice soft, for the atmosphere now allowed it what with the recent departure of a large group, it was a far more comfortable volume for her throat. “You could tell me the names?” A side glance as she drained the last of the warming drink. Swallowing, she used one of the complimentary napkins from Honeydukes to remove the Butterbeer moustache at last.

There was only a bite or two left of the opened Treacle fudge, so Leanne resolved to save it for something do do whilst thinking later in the conversation. “As for my friends, I don’t have many. Miss Katie returned for a little while but she left to go back home…Mister Rolf, though!” A wide stretch of lips belied her happiness at this particular information. “Mister Rolf’s returned as Mister Hagrid’s teaching assistant! It’s so lovely, for he’s quite into magical creatures, you see. So it’s perfect!” Nodding happily, she turned in her stool to fully face Miss Jones now that there was no food or drink to occupy some of her attention span. “And I’ve made new friends recently! Mister Jordan, though I haven’t seen him since we ran from Mister Peeves a few weeks ago. And I haven’t seen Mister George, either. But I’m sure I will soon!” Beaming, Leanne nudged Verity.

“Miss Jones! I insist you tell me your friends’ names and I’ll either know or find out if they’re at Hogwarts!”

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

There was just an air to Leanne, that was the bred air of energetic and eccentric. It made her rather lovely to be around, and even if a thought that pulled more of a sad sensation than a pleased one crossed her mind - Leanne's smile sparked and cut through it, dissolving the emotion before it could land and sink in its claws. There was life to her, that had not been stunted by the war as far as Verity saw, or knew (which was very, very little). And so, when Leanne smile like she did in her direction the prior-Hufflepuff could not deny her the same smile back.

"Rolf? Scamander, right?" She nodded, as if confirming this herself despite whatever Leanne would say. A bad habit adopted from her sibling. "Really? He's just a young tyke, innit-he?" Her gaze fell on Leanne's now empty butterbeer mug, and Verity debated refilling it on the house. She kept the thought muddling as she continued. "Well! He's a bright young fella. Good for him to be at it young." 

Leanne's suggestion was a very good one, and it brightened Verity. She perked and drummed her hands contently on the bar. When she caught the giddiness act, she halted and pushed locks behind her ear, making a guilty expression that stretched her mouth on tight-together teeth, neck sucking in and the chords sticking out. "That's a plan, that is. I'll write you a list, because it's a very long one and I wouldn't dream of riling them off and expecting you to remember." Verity laughed, belly warm with the sound as she summoned a quill and a slip of parchment by just twirling the tip of her wand. It didn't take long to jot down the names (although some ended up crossed out, being as their real-life counter parts had died), and slide it over to her in a small fold. As if in exchange, she swiped up Leanne's mug, walking backwards to the barrel.

"Refill?" She wiggled it invitingly, smiling warmly. "On me." She added, inclining her head and keeping kind eyes to express sincerity. 

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

Leanne's my only other person to reply to now (when it comes in), so I wanted to organize more plots for the future. Takers?

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[fckyeah-penguins]

Gentoo Penguin in water by Derek Pettersson on Flickr.

[fckyeah-penguins]

gentoo penguin - manchot papou by chogori20 on Flickr.

[lynxanne-blog]

Building Houses || Verity & Leanne

[lynxanne-blog]

As Verity corrected her previous mistake, Leanne’s eyebrows lifted and recognition of the blonde’s accent registered at last. So, she hadn’t been from London after all! Grinning inwardly, she felt a bit happy her earlier thoughts had been right, that Miss Jones did not speak with an accent from any part of the capital, nor England for that matter. Having a bit of a hobby for listening to people speak and try to figure out where they’re from, her mood only got better with the minor ‘victory’. “Wales, then? Mum says my father’s father was from Swansea. Never met the man, though…”

Miss Jones seemed to have paused after her words, a contemplative expression sitting on her forehead. A sigh finally escaped the other and she opened her mouth to converse once more. Leanne tilted her head, wondering what the brief moment of silence had been for. She’d only been talking of living with her parents… Had she missed something? The thought of possibly having zonked out for a second horrified her, so she quickly tried to stuff the alarm down in order to pay attention. The circle of panic ceased, but she hoped her rudeness wasn’t so obvious. When Verity ended her explanation Leanne’s eyes widened in realization. Oh! Money problems, then? Whatever the problem, the younger girl nudged over another piece of fudge, not wishing to cause Miss Jones any further distress on the subject.

The answer to her posed question on choice of location had Leanne smiling. “So you wanted to help!” How kind and selfless! Most avoided the areas damaged by the war, not wishing to have visual reminders.

However, if more people like Miss Jones came around to help, there would be no such visuals around. Air coming out in a rush from her nostrils, she took a sip of the still warm Butterbeer and stewed over the common masses. “So, you’ve not been working here all that long, then. How’re you enjoying it? A job with a lot of interaction is always interesting, or so I think…Hogsmeade is generally a good area for crowds. Plus, it’s near Hogwarts so perhaps you’ll see old friends!”

Their earlier touched on subject of the eighth year option increased the likelihood Verity would see friends she’d gotten on with during her years at the castle. Though that also meant people she’d perhaps not prefer to see, but hopefully Miss Jones had no such people—she was such a lovely lady, Leanne doubted it.

[verityschmucklepuff-blog]

Never met the man though. Verity gave a slight, polite smile, to show her sympathies though she imagined they weren't needed towards someone whom Leanne had never met. She shifted on her seat again, taking a sip of her treacle-fleck-free Butterbeer. Her lips thrummed with the flavour and zinged to the wires upon wires of nerves in her head that sent a sense of satisfaction washing over her. She fiddled with the handle, turning the mug 'round and round by just that. 

She had wanted to help. For reasons like Leanne; for people who continued to smile even though the worst could've happened; and to many it had. People who hurt because they lost people and just needed fixing, whether it be by small smile or butterbeer. And Rosmerta had been hurt when her shop took, for lack of a better words, a shit-kicking and someone who had been endlessly kind to her as a student - Verity felt strongly about aiding. 

"'Course I wanted to help. S'what Hufflepuff's are known for." Her lips quirked into a half grin, and a shrug rolled from her. "I just know a lot of people had it harder than me, and I can at least give them a hand if they don't turn it away." The butterbeer sat heavy in her belly for a moment, but as quick as the feeling had filtered in - it filtered out and there was once more a calm. "No," she sighed, inclining her head. She wished there was a back to the stool. "Not long at all. But I think I'll be here for a long time. There's no one else really opened up to hiring. I think the main reason Rosmerta agreed was because I promised I'd help her rebuild." 

And if Verity didn't work - she'd go stir-crazy. To think of not doing anything bothered her; muffled her mind and made her feel like she had the itches all over. Her gut rolled and she inhaled deeply, feeling the expand of her lungs and how sparse and tight it was. She held it, then let it go from her nostrils. 

Old friends. The thought crossed Verity's mind. Plenty of times. There'd be a few people she'd been hoping to meet; and even a further few whom she kept expecting to walk in through the door at any moment - but the thought would fall like it had leaped and missed the ledge of the next cliff; because those people were dead. Though Verity had not known them enough to be able to mourn them in such a serious way, she had still known of them and it was a sad thing to know they wouldn't step in through the broken door way as Leanne had. Her fingers twitched on her mug. And then there was George. George with his goofy smile that had a echo and his mirth-sprinkled eyes. Lee, whom she did not know quite as well, but still had frequented a class with back in the day. Her mind always wanted to reach for another name - Fred - but she always stopped it. Always.

"I'm not sure how many friends of mine have gone back, actually. I mean - I know of a few who've owled me and such, but otherwise..." She made a grimace sort of face, as though she were at a loss for words for Leanne. "Did any of your friends re-attend?" Verity turned her self towards Leanne slightly, crossing her legs and leaning onto an elbow, supporting her head in her hand. "Is the castle fixed?"

[disillusionedsoul]

A little hope, even hopeless hope, never hurt anybody.

John Steinbeck (The Winter of Our Discontent)

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