Violet Greengrass

6th Year Hufflepuff. Beater. Heiress. Won't disappear.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

Winning the Quidditch Cup with the team flipped a switch, and instead of her grim post-break expression, Violet now walked around with a proper Hufflepuff exuberance. Was her future potentially teetering on the brink of utter destruction? Yes. Did she care? Absolutely not. 

No, everything was sunshine and roses and celebratory champagne right now, and Violet could care less that they were still in the middle of the frigid Scottish winter. Nor was she bothered by the fact that someone barged straight into her as soon as she stepped out of the library, sending her books flying. “As far as surprise attacks go, that was great,” Violet grinned. “Are you okay?”

[nicomulciber]

Sometimes a date is an arse too.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

nicomulciber

“Count your fucking blessings. We were raised in the same class you…” He hissed and paused trying to collect himself. Make it not noticeable that he wanted to flip this table and slap a dish across Violet’s face. It was a level of restraint he rarely had to use at all. Curving his ire instead to a charming smile and a facial expression that lied about his wants and desires. At far away glance they seemed to getting along rather well, until someone got close enough to feel the tension between the two of them. Instead of speaking in a feigned tone of happiness, he opted instead to merely nod towards her.

The words she conveyed without speaking weren’t hard to follow. He knew exactly what she was saying, and to show that he did. Nicolas poured himself another glass of wine. At least wine would help him get over the notion of this dinner and what it meant. He would have to see this gaze from Violet for an eternity. Because he sure as Salazar wasn’t bucking up to live a joined life sober. The scenarios to dissolve this swept through his brain. Deliberately trying to find a solution that would benefit both parties. However, this dinner was a thorn in each of those. If either of them left it looked bad on the other party, and the whispers wouldn’t help either of them find a different union.

Finally. A look he was familiar with, because he gave it to Violet numerous times on the pitch. Was she just figuring it out now, that he was a tad bit off the rails? That was no secret to behold. Nicolas paused and left her pop off. Part of him wanted to kick her to shut her up, and he even raised his foot to do so. Then noticed his father’s lingering gaze and instead stretched his leg in the other direction. “So tell me. What are your ambitions after school?” He raised his voice in that fake serpent charmer tone of his. Before he sent her a subtle glare. “Yes, I am. At least for a little bit. I need a safe cover, and as much as I hate to admit it. You’re it. That shouldn’t be a problem right? Since you bloody share everything together.” He growled low through his teeth flashing his jealously that for whatever reason couldn’t be left at home.

It was excruciating painful to not roll his eyes at Violet across from him. “At a different time, that would give us more time to think of something without other company being around.” Nicolas pointed out, unless she thought her grandmother would just cart her off to a different restaurant right away? Wandless magic wasn’t his specialty, but that was one spell he knew. Considering he was a spy for the Legacy. He seems to contemplate this, but shakes his head slowly. “No. I think the crab will be delicious just like the wine.” Nicolas conveys aloud before murmuring under his breath. “My father has my wand and I can’t even use wandless magic or else he will know something is up.” Nicolas sighed taking another gulp of his wine, but it just happened to appear as an elongated sip. “Yes, that’s his normal murderous look. Listen to me carefully Violet.” He positioned the wine glass and smiled towards her.

“I don’t hurt you because of Lucy. He… wouldn’t care.” It wasn’t exactly a threat from him just an observation. He wouldn’t put his father to take his anger out on another family, especially one that weren’t open about their following. “Lucy and I don’t have a full year left at Hogwarts, and you do. A lot can happen in a year.”  He pointed out. In a whisper. “We need them gone to properly discuss how to get out of this.”

Violet did not deem his words worthy of a response. They were both purebloods, they were both raised properly, but she strongly doubted that his upbringing was quite as extensive on etiquette and the value of propriety as hers was. Some days she doubted any man ever got that amount of bloody classiness and elegance drilled into their every movement as some pureblood girls did, but that was not something she dwelled on anymore. Violet has accepted a long time ago that, for the better or worst, she was a woman and that it meant airs and appearances, it meant looking effortless, looking perfect, and that it translated murder and violence into words and poison, but never any real blood on her hands.

Momentary slip-ups were allowed, if she could correct them, make them forgotten. But messing this up was not something she could fix later; this was not a slight social blunder she could blame on some minor distress. This whole clusterfuck could easily develop into a life-or-death situation, and Violet carefully, cruelly smothered each and every one of her useless emotions about what was happening. No anger, no annoyance at the pettiness of him pouring more wine in his glass. No desperation, no worry, no fear about the possible hell her life could become, married to Nicolas Mulciber of all people. It was a cold feeling, letting calculation stomp out every last bit of emotion in her, and not one that Violet necessarily liked—but she was intimately familiar with the sensation nonetheless.

“Only the expected, I’m afraid,” she responded, her tone bright and clear and empty of any real feeling that has previously coloured her voice. “Becoming the head of the family, and all that that entails. And what about yourself?” Her already cold gaze plunged into blood-freezing territory with his next words. “If you think I will go through with this out of the goodness of my heart, think again. I’m not a charity for gay men, risking my reputation and my family’s future just to act as a cover. Oh yes, it would be so perfect for the two of you, because no one would suspect anything if Lucy visited often, would they?” Violet let out a humourless little laugh, that sounded just like a proper young lady’s who have heard a rather funny remark. “I will put this very simply; I don’t care about you. As things look right now, having you as my husband would be a liability at best, and a downright threat at worst. So we are either going to make a deal, Mulciber, or I will take the blow to my reputation right now and save my future. Which one?”

She stopped her fingers from drumming on the table impatiently. As far as she was concerned, the ball was squarely in his court at the moment, and she was content with the choice she offered. Violet would make things work for her either way in the end. “That’s irritating,” she commented mildly. “But alright then. Depending on your choice I can signal my grandmother to make them leave, or we can quickly finish this dinner and I will tell her that I won’t go through with this.” She took a small sip from her glass of wine, appearing to taste it carefully as she pondered over his words. “Can’t say that I’m surprised,” Violet finally said, voice still emotionless. “So, just to be clear, your father is not at all worried about mistreating me in any way. I get that he is absolutely unconcerned with trifles like ethics or social decency, but you are telling me that he would also harm another family’s head without a second thought.” 

Violet took another sip, seemingly idle gaze connecting with the much more murderous-looking one of Nicodamus Mulciber for a second. Poison, she decided, something bespoke, something quick and new. And no access to any children of mine, ever. “I appreciate your honesty,” she directed her gaze back to Nicolas, putting the glass back on the table. “But I’m sure you understand that this marriage is looking worse and worse for me.”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

puff-tedwardtcnks

“Mine wasn’t too bad.” He smiled, thinking to himself that she seemed a bit less enthusiastic than he was used to. But Violet Greengrass always made him nervous. It wasn’t her fault, he supposed, but rather her cousins. Her cousin, who had been the main perpetrator of his bullying was someone he feared and avoided. So it was really just his luck that Violet would not only be in the same year and house as him, but they would be on the Quidditch team together as well. That fact alone had been enough to make him consider quitting a couple years back. The only thing that had changed his mind was when he realized that she was not like her cousin. At least not in the sense that she wanted to cause him any harm or ill-will. Something that he was grateful for.

Which only made him feel bad, as he was aware of the fact that he should not be so distant and off put by her. Ted only hoped that she would not pick this up, if she hadn’t already. “I haven’t! But I’m sure we’ll hear soon enough.” He himself was looking forward to Quidditch starting up. It was always something fun and helped take him mind off of things. His family also enjoyed reading about his matches in the letters that he sent to them. “A little? It’s mostly just stocking though.” He explained to her. Even if Madame Pomfrey was busy though, she was always good at seeing students when they needed to be seen. “I’m sure that if you go in though she’ll see you soon. Unless it’s just something I could help with?” There wasn’t much that he could do, but he was better than average at basic healing spells. And he could also get Madame Pomfrey’s attention if they needed him to do that for them as well.

“That’s good to hear,” Violet said politely. It looked like Ted either didn’t pick up on her less-than-stellar mood, or he was making an effort to not comment on it. Likely the latter—he started doing that a while ago, trying his best to not show any of his misplaced worry when he talked to her. Violet was quite sure that by now Ted knew that Phoebe and her were not exactly alike, or at least not in the obvious ways, but she didn’t really fault him for being careful. 

“Classic,” she sighed. “I bet we’ll be shoving in extra practices the last minute again.” Quite honestly, Violet was just looking forward to the casual, unrestricted violence of being a Beater on the pitch. Socially-sanctioned murderous intent disguised as sport felt like the only thing that could save her from just exploding because of all the tension. “Well, I was just doing a bit of batting,” she began, moving her broom to her left hand and folding back the right sleeve of her robe to show her wrist, “and I messed up adjusting my grip too late. I’m sure it’s something minor, but I tried a few healing charms and it still aches a bit. Do you think you could help with that? I’d rather not bother Madam Pomfrey with it, if you can. She gave me a whole lecture last time.”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

carrowalec

Alecto’s head remained docile — that word, in and of itself, seeming the antithesis to what Alec truly was — and she nestled into Violet gently, letting her own mind wander for a moment. She might not trust Violet as much as she did her siblings, or anywhere close, but she seemed to trust in the fact that Violet wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, especially not with the other’s fingers combing through her hair gently.

“But by the grace of birth and circumstance. Three beings from one soul was a lucky thing to happen to us, then our lives continued to mold us into one being before all was said and done.” Alecto offered softly; the truth was her brothers were her armour, but more than that she was theirs. She would die for Amycus and Adonis, and would sooner see someone destroyed before her rage than to see either of them come close to harm. And as it stood, Nico had found his way into their niche in the same token.

“I know all about being the only girl, love.” Alecto said, the pet name feeling somehow awkward in her mouth, and not dripping with the usual saccharine tone of most to use it — or even Alecto’s own coined bitterness when she was enraged — but instead seeming almost on instinct and casual, “It makes us stronger in the end. They want to underestimate us, and we let them… because then when we stand above their smoldering corpses the look they give us is so much more sweet.”

Violet listened, truly listened, thoughts fully focusing on the conversation. Usually she flitted through talks, fully aware of social conventions and what exactly the point, path, and outcome of a discussion would be. Words were powerful things, but not many people used them in a way that merited special attention. Alecto was clearly an exception to that, Violet found. 

But besides her words that affirmed what Violet already thought was true—that the Carrow triplet were not so much three people sharing blood but a single unit, self-contained and impossible to turn on itself—there was also the matter of their nonverbal position. Granted, Violet was a largely pleasant person in general, but she did not usually engage with physical gentleness, bar towards a precious few. Not that anyone, including Alecto needed to know that. More than anything, Violet was suspicious of people, and in case the other girl somehow figured that she was actually interested in way more than just men and decided to play some sort of a game with her, then Violet needed to not give too much fodder. There had to be a sliver of plausible deniability until she could be sure that she wasn’t being played.

The pet name made her thoughts pause for a second, fingers stilling for a moment, the tone of it entirely too sincere for what she expected of Alecto. “True,” she finally said, voice a bit rawer than usual, giving away a morsel of how affected she was. “No one ever expects beautiful girls to become anything more than pretty little wives,” Violet continued, tone turning equally amused and sardonic. “But having to smile through that insult just makes that tide of anger rise in the end. Granted, I prefer my enemies not knowing it was me who destroyed them, but I do wonder. It would be easier to be a man, but would victory be as sweet? Triumph as heady?” There was a moment, a hair’s width of a border suddenly crossed, and the words curled off of Violet’s tongue without much thought, “If only marrying a woman was an option.”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

lilymxrie-evans

Lily breathed out a sigh of relief as the other girl assured her the seat was free, and she sent her a grateful smile as she set her bags down on the floor, before draping her drenched coat over the back of the chair. “Thank you… Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s Lily,” she told her as she dropped down into the chair opposite, letting out a quiet hum as she nodded, “I’ve been doing a bit of a gift shopping yeah, that and picking up a few things my mum needs.” She paused for a moment, her gaze flicking down to the menu briefly, before back up to the girl opposite, “You’re on the Hufflepuff team, aren’t you?”

Violet inclined her head slightly with polite gratefulness, making sure her mind connected ‘Lily’ to ‘Evans’. It was a rather nice name, especially by her family’s standards, who had just a little bit of an obsession with names relating to anything botanic. “It’s a good time for gift shopping,” Violet commented idly, before she raised her eyebrows, surprised. “I’m not trying to be rude, but isn’t your mother a Muggle? What does she need from Diagon Alley?” Violet leaned back in her chair a bit, eyes flitting around casually to see if a waiter was heading their way with her drink, before she looked back at the other girl. “I am,” she responded. “I’ve been a Beater for five years. By the way, feel free to show up to any Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match, Potter gets way more stupid and stunt-y when you’re around,” she added with a soft snort. Gossip spread quickly between Quidditch players, and Potter’s crush on the girl was quite obvious.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

theprincessmalfoy

The girl grins at Violet’s comment nodding her head slowly. “H-he is th-the b-bbest.” Millenia spoke softly and frowns already missing Dobby’s company.  On the subject of her house elf she seemed slightly stumped. Were the rules at Hogwarts different when it came to House Elves? “D-DDobby c-can c-come visit m-me?” Millenia asked in a meek voice. She liked Violet so far, the other girl seemed nice and she was almost enamored by her. She puts a finger to her mouth and bobs her head in a nod. Miss Fanny was still sleeping after all and it would be rude to awaken her for sure. Millenia’s docile form followed Violet as she sat near the window listening to the older girl. Almost fangirling to the point she hangs on every word.

“O-okay. I w-will ask th-them.” She spoke in almost a nervous flutter of words.  Her large eyes zoned onto the stranger curiously until he vanished from sight. Millenia nodded to Violet as she repeated the name Amycus. “Y-yes. Ama-ccus b-bad. N-nico y-yell.” She blinks at the elder girl a bit blankly before she nods again. “I t-tell Lu-lu if p-people are m-mean.” The girl speaks slowly with a firm nod, as if that would actually solve everything.

“Of course he can, if your parents let him,” Violet responded, “and I’m sure you’ll make good friends with some of the House Elves here too.” Not that she was supposed to, because that was decidedly not a thing society expected a pureblood Malfoy lady to do. “Just... keep it a secret, alright? The House Elves wouldn’t want other people to get jealous at your friendship with them,” Violet lied quickly. With a little luck, Millenia would take it to heart and there would be no whispers about her on this front. She seemed very intent on Violet’s every word, and the Hufflepuff was ready to use that attention to try and shield Millenia as much as possible from what would almost inevitably happen.

Violet stifled a groan when the other girl elaborated. She really hasn’t thought about the issue that was Nicolas Mulciber, but it was unavoidable. If Millenia went around calling the boy ‘Nico’ and if he was going to be less of an asshole to her than other people, it would only be too suspicious. Trust that arse to cause her yet another headache. “And when doesn’t he yell?” Violet muttered testily, before clearing her throat. “Right, you should absolutely do that. Tell Lucy anything weird about other people, okay? But um...” She bit her lips, unsure. How on earth did you tell a girl who was like a small child that she should behave like a grown woman or risk compromising both her and her family’s reputation and wellbeing? “Millenia, do you like to play pretend?”

[puff-tedwardtcnks-blog]

Going back to school was such a bittersweet moment. Winter break always felt much to short, but he still found himself missing his friends from school. Which made Ted feel grateful that he was only in his sixth year and not his seventh. Though with nearly half the year already gone, it would only be a matter of time before he was in his final year. Often times he could go on without thinking of such things, not wanting to be sad about a departure that still felt so far away. It was bittersweet moments like these that made him think about more of the inevitable. Though it was much to doom and gloom for him to harp on and let it actually bother him. 

Ted had returned to school slightly early with the intentions of helping out Madam Pomfrey get ready for the return of the student body. He had actually been heading away from the Hospital Wing when he saw what appeared to be a familiar face, “Hello!” He called out to get their attention. “How was your break?” He asked, smile on his face as he held an empty box. The box of course, was only empty because he was meant to retrieve a few potions from Professor Slughorn. 

[violet-greengrass-blog]

Violet couldn’t get back to Hogwarts soon enough, ready to escape her home where she’s been pretending to be excited about her life for what felt like a century. At least here she could look grim like death and just needed to tell people that it was because of an assignment to get them off of her back. Or, even better, she could take out all her anger and despair on innocent Bludgers at the pitch, as she has just done. Quite carelessly too, because trying to adjust her grip a moment before a strike now made her wrist ache dully, despite the mild healing charms she used. 

Rounding a corner on her way to the Hospital Wing to have Madam Pomfrey check her wrist out, Violet wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings, and she was surprised to hear someone talking to her. “Oh, hi Ted,” she smiled, a bit less genuinely than usual. The smile became even more strained after his question. “Could’ve been better, how about yours?” Violet forced out, eager to change the topic. “Do you know when the first practice will be? I haven’t heard anything, but we’ll have a match soon. Oh, and is Madam Pomfrey busy right now?”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

qtqatch

Quinn smiled brightly, “I’m doing well. Just writing an OWL to my dad. He’s going to write me his sermon.” She replied giddily with a pleasant sigh. “I hope he sends back candy too. That would be nice. I’ll share with you if he does.” She replies cheerfully resting her chin on her knuckles.

Her head tilts slowly and she blinks. Almost knocking her cup over in the process, she extends her hand to gently pat Violet’s hand. “What’s wrong?” Quinn inquired her brows furrowing together to define the concerned wrinkles on her forehead. She quietly hoped it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed, maybe more hot cocoa would help?

Violet quirked an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that take quite a bit?” She asked. “Or does he already have his sermon written and will just send it to you after he’s done? Ah, sorry if it’s ignorant, but Muggles don’t have anything like a Quick-Quotes Quill, do they?” She smiled warmly at the offer. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.”

Violet stiffened a bit at the sudden touch, not expecting it, before she relaxed. Eyeing Quinn’s cup warily, but feeling it too rude to move it out of the way herself, she let out a frustrated little sigh. “It’s just—well, can you keep a secret?” Violet’s mind was running miles a second, trying to think of a way to talk about her issue without giving away any of the numerous life-or-death secrets wound around it. “One of my Finnish cousins is having trouble,” she finally said. There, she could finally rant about the catastrophe and Quinn, bless her, would probably believe that she actually had a Finnish cousin with the problem.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

breakalegprewett

Fabian laughed, “I should thank my dad for blessing the school with such a voice.  Perhaps even ask Gideon to become a backup. Imagine the devastation if something happens to my singing voice. The toads will be totally crushed.” The ginger snickered at the comment, before his expression turned into idle amusement listening to the debate talk. “Hm that’s true. Disputes don’t make debates fun, but the difference in opinion is interesting if both areas have pros to weigh.” He nodded along with the words of purist views. “Well yes, if you count us and my dad. My aunt is Mulciber’s mother. So she is a Prewett by blood and thus has more purist views than I can even probably fathom.” He squints his eyes in slow thought, “I like muggleborns, nothing wrong with them as far as I’m concerned. I think some of their gadgets are neato. I’d be terribly impressed with myself if I was somehow able to mask my hatred for muggles this long.” He laughed lightheartedly.

“Oh no that’s not it. Greta loves cheese. It’s her favourite thing on the Earth I’m sure.” He grinned widely chuckling soon after. “That would be fun to watch his reaction to being voted out of the position and being bossed around by the toads he keeps imprisoned for choir practice.”

Violet grinned. “Don’t thank him too much, he is still two sons short of blessing us with a proper American-style barbershop quartet.” She examined the toads sitting morosely in their little cells, and then nodded with false seriousness. “True, they seem inconsolable already just at the mention of it. Or maybe it’s the prison woes.” Violet leaned back, tilting her head to the side. “Fair, but I prefer listening to other people talk those points out as I form my opinion. I get the appeal of taking a public stand for all you believe in, it’s just not something I can quite see myself doing.” That was an understatement. Violet was absolutely certain that she would never make her true feelings on such matters known to any but a select few, no matter where she stood. No, her style was much more about flying under the radar than being loud and proud. 

She let out a little huff, not terribly impolite but still rather expressive, at the mention of his aunt. “Ah, Hespia. I had a little chat with her once at a function. Quite an opinionated woman. Apologies if it’s prying, but I assumed her and your father are not exactly on good terms—do you still count her as family?” Violet hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t say I know much about their gadgets. And yes, that’s what I thought, but you can never know, right? It feels like anyone could hide any sort of secrets nowadays.”

She narrowed her eyes. “See, now you’re just making me even more suspicious. Fine, I’ll give her some cheese, but it will be actual cheese that you give me, and I will hand it over with the clear understanding that she should blame you for anything that happens and I’m just an innocent bystander.” Violet snickered, more and more taken by the idea. “What a fitting punishment for years, probably decades of crimes against toadkind.”

[nicomulciber]

Sometimes a date is an arse too.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

nicomulciber

Nicolas glowered at her from the rim of the glass. Temper slowly starting to warmly shade the top of his cheeks. “Oh sorry, would you rather me call you a tart instead?” He hissed with his newfound shield in the form of a wine glass he would much rather be downing. Maybe he could black out? Get black out drunk, but he figured whatever fucked up shit he figured to get himself out of here - would hold dire consequences and not for him.

He could easily blame the alcohol for the tint of ginger on his pale cheeks, instead of his already hiking up angered frustration at the situation. He knew he should have stayed home, but instead he was dragged along to play house. Nicolas glanced around them in a sweep taking note on a few faces, and flashing a brilliant smile until they became disturbed with his clashing gaze to glance away. “The wine is delicious. I can taste the sweet grapes.” Nico commented charismatically before their menu game began.

“Oi well. I’d say this is as serious as we get Vio-let.” He used his utter annoyance to cut her name in half with his dialect. Nicolas pauses as he followed her instruction almost coming close to dropping the menu on her in the process. There’s a small chortle in response, because what the Salazar else was he going to do here?

If looks could talk, he stared at her as if she had just stated the most obvious thing in the universe. Breathing heavily through his nostrils trying to remain calm at this disaster. “Yes. Yes to all of that. My own misery? Don’t even get me started on that.” He hissed and paused to pour himself some more wine. Even more grumpier when the waiter butted in before he could continue.

“Yes. I’ll have this, but I want to keep the menu. I think we will be having dessert. Could we also bother you for another glass of wine?” He could feel the pinch in his cheek from his artificial smile. Why couldn’t this arse be part of the resistance and just fucking poison him?

He waits for what feels like a grueling amount of time before the waiter gets out of ear shot. Quick to think about it he feigns a loose grip on his glass, splashing a bit of wine on himself. Not enough to make a terrible scene, but enough for him to lift up his napkin to cover his lips so he could start whispering at her again.

“I was thinking of other people and not myself. I tried to get out of this before I even knew it was you. Use your head, why the fuck would I want to go on a date with a girl? I thought about accidentally causing a fire. Pretending our waiter tried to…” His face lightens up, giving a casual grin as he sets the napkin back into his lap. Through a forced smile and gritted teeth. “What if we sabotage the food?” He rolls his eyes moving them toward the wine glasses. “Did your …whoever let you keep your wand on you?” Nicolas takes care in barely whispering the words through his forced smile, glancing away casually as if looking shy. But really he wanted to see just how many eyes were still on them.

Violet noticed the red tinting her dinner partner’s cheeks, and oh, wasn’t that just rich. “Thought you’d start with cunt, but I guess you’re not mad enough yet. Or else you finally contacted a mild case of class, which you usually seem immune to,” she responded quietly enough for only him to hear. Her face was carefully arranged into a pleasant expression before she spoke up, lest anyone thought she was talking about inappropriate things. “The wine is indeed delicious, but I’m afraid any more before the meal would spoil my appetite.”

The words were accompanied by a look that lingered on Nicolas’ glass just a moment too long to be unintentional. Don’t you dare to go drunk on me, Violet tried to convey without actually having to hiss the words. She felt tense like a bowstring, just on the edge of doing something absolutely idiotic, like discreetly aiming her wand at the ceiling and making it cave in on them. Him butchering her name was not helping her mood at all, and Violet stared at her menu with utmost care, hoping the letters could somehow distract her enough to take a few deep breaths. 

And then, of course, her arse of a date almost dropped his menu on her, and Violet’s eyes cut from the list of side dishes to Nicolas with the ferocity of a mass murderer. She was going to make him choke on that damn chortle of his if it went on for another second— “Are you out of your mind?!” Her hold tightened on her menu, her carefully arranged hair just about covering her mouth from the eager view of their family members. “You’re seriously telling me you’ll go through with this without any resistance?! Just use your head for once instead of that self-pitying black heart of yours and think of a way out of this so you don’t have to tell Lucy that he will be your best man at our bloody wedding!”

Violet was mad, but never mad enough to not know where she was and who was watching. “I’ll have the crab, please,” she flashed a dazzling smile at the waiter, going for the dish she decided was the fussiest to eat, and therefore most likely to give her enough to do with her hands to not strangle anyone. On one hand she appreciated Nicolas’ foresight in keeping the menus to disguise their conversation, but on the other she couldn’t help thinking that by desserts someone would be dead.

She let out a small, exasperated sigh when he splashed some wine on himself. At least she didn’t have to pretend that she found that charming, or even remotely acceptable. “Oh dear,” Violet commented drily before lifting her own napkin, seemingly to offer if he needed it, turning her upper body inconspicuously to hide her lips from view. “How sweet of you. And here I was, thinking you were masterminding a plan to cover your tracks and avoid suspicion.” She let her napkin drop as well. “I’m sure if there was anything wrong with the food, it’d just mean a new date at a different restaurant,” Violet said lightly with a genuine-looking smile, noticing her grandmother was getting impatient. She really didn’t put it past her to use a charm to listen in on their conversation. “Yes, but if I pull out my wand it will be a tad suspicious,” she hissed quickly, seemingly turning to examine the stuccos on the wall nearby after a quick glance at their chaperones. “So if you could put up a quick repelling spell for spying charms, I’d be grateful. That’s my grandmother and she is not looking pleased with what she can hear. Merlin, does your father always wear that expression or is he feeling especially murderous right now?”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

@davidxariel

Gift-giving was a delicate art, which was one of the reasons why Violet usually did not appreciate secret gift exchanges. Finding a fitting gift for someone she barely knew was a bother, but now she looked forward to the challenge to take her mind off of anything else going on in her life. 

And a challenge it was—what did you give to someone in your year who was also a young mother? A gift for the baby would have been acceptable, but potentially crass. After all, she was a person on her own right, not just a mother. Then again, maybe not giving something suitable for a mother would have been insulting too? Violet wasn’t quite stumped, but she was definitely overthinking this.

At least the budget wasn’t something she had to worry too much about; they have been extremely frugal in their spending since the Gringotts incident, but quite a few of their past business ventures were starting to pay, meaning she could afford to get something nice for Ariel. Tasteful mid-range gift it was, somewhat impersonal, since she didn’t really know the recipient, but ideally still meaningful.

The answer came to her while having tea with her mother, and after a brief discussion of it, Violet excused herself to arrange for the gift. Now all she had to do was pen a quick letter and find an owl that was strong enough to carry the package, but also had notice-me-not charms on it, in case the other girl went home for the holidays.

Dear Ariel,

I was assigned as your secret gift giver. It might seem random, but we usually gift each other these in my family after one had a baby. They are enchanted to stay warm in the winter or cool in the summer. I hope you like the red—the people I asked couldn’t tell me your favourite colour so I thought I’d go with a classic Gryffindor one. 

Happy Holidays!

Violet Greengrass

[violet-greengrass-blog]

carrowalec

There was an air to Alecto that she was always in control; she always knew exactly what she was doing, and did nothing that she had not planned.

Most of that was true, but sometimes Alecto’s very spirit ran away with her. She had no come into this exchange planning to rest her head against the other girl, nor had she planned to actually feel somewhat relaxed in that moment. Did it mean she trusted Violet? No. Did it mean she even liked her? The world might never know, but Violet had yet to fall victim to her more violent tendencies, so at least she had that going for her.

As her hair was pet, she made a small noise, though not that of a cat but something more deep, and musing, “One only needs worry about taking on the world if the world is something to fear, however.” Alecto began, then shrugged, careful not to unsettle herself from her position there, “I am a storm and where I go I leave only carnage in my wake, and yet as people seek to fight me, the real truth is they are only working to survive me, so…”

The second bit caught her slightly off-guard; she hadn’t meant to imply she didn’t trust Amycus and Adonis, “They’re the only beings in the world that I trust. I have met no one who I can, and we are spawned from the same darkness, at near the same time… we exist as one being separated into three because it could not hope to be contained by one body alone…”

Poetic, again, but nary a drop of irony in her tone; she meant it. There was an argument to be made for her attachment to Nico, but Nico and she had a friendship that belonged solely to her and the boy; she need not share it with the world.

It was, overall, a very calm conversation, and Violet appreciated the effortlessness of it. She expected a game of some sort, a typically Slytherin way of spending the time with verbal sparring or testing one’s psychological weapons, but she was content with the current state of affairs. Alecto might have had something in mind for all Violet knew, but she wasn’t worried about it at the moment—she was petting her hair, for crying out loud. 

Alecto had very nice hair, although not as soft or glossy as Violet’s own, of course. That level of niceness required a dedication to a meticulous beauty regimen and an in-depth knowledge of both one’s own attributes and potioneering. For some reason Violet assumed that that was not how Alecto spent her free time.

She left out a soft, pleased laugh at her words. “You’re right about that. What does a storm like you have to fear from the rest of the world, after all? Other than maybe an indestructible mountain of a person.” Her words were almost fond. There was something delightful about hearing the other girl talk about the world with such careless ease, even though Violet has been taught early on that such pride was an unacceptable vice. She was raised to know how to use that pride in others, how to bring down the mighty with traps made of words and chains of influence. But the idea of simply trusting one’s own power was still charming. 

“I thought so too,” she responded. “Although I don’t think I could’ve put it quite as beautifully. It must be nice then, having two people you can trust with everything. Wish my brothers were like that,” Violet huffed. Her much older brothers couldn’t even be trusted to babysit her adequately when she was younger, and they were all unfailingly loyal to their father. No, she trusted her best friend, Lucy, way more than her actual brothers. “Or I wish I had a sister,” she mused. “Being the only girl was a pain in the arse.”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

dont-call-me-amy

Amelia glared at her.

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to free herself from the older girl’s hold. “ And I’d rather not be talking to you right now.” She began to walk away, but turned back on a second thought: they would probably have to talk about their shared experience eventually so she might as well get that out of the way.

“Look, I know I wasn’t the most responsive in the Astronomy tower, but it’s not like we’re dead or even injured because of it. And I have no idea of why you would need the defensive skills you showed back there, but whatever issues you have are not my problem or my fault.”

Violet let out a shaky exhale when the other girl walked away. This was bad, and she needed to regroup. There was no way she could be walking around in such a state, getting furious at the most minor of inconveniences just because her family has effectively been robbed. The thought itself, the sheer helplessness of the situation had frustrated tears gather in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them off.

She didn’t notice Amelia turning back until the other girl began to speak. “No we aren’t, thanks to Flitwick of all people,” Violet responded drily, irritation rearing its head again. “And I take it that waiting for an apology or even a curt ‘thank you’ would be futile. What is that supposed to mean?” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you accusing me of something because I can adequately protect myself, or are you just jealous? Fine, I’ll apologize for being rude to you just now, but if you think I will ever consider feeling bad for saving our bloody lives, you have another think coming.”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

qtqatch

Quinn was always a wild child, needing to experience freedom. Cheerful and determined she had set out on foot to find something new to her. Diagon Alley was sometimes a scary place for Quinn. There were often many frightening elders that made her want to scamper back to Hogwarts. It took her an hour to find this new cafe.

She adored it and got herself some hot cocoa. Perched in her chair like a cat waiting for someone anyone she might know. Humming to herself a song from choir she spotted Violet. Beaming from ear to ear she stepped over, and furrowed her breath. “Oh no. I’m not the waiter. It’s me Quinn!” Quinn giggled into her steaming cup of hot cocoa. Not even waiting she sits across from Violet and lets out a happy soft squeal. “Isn’t it nice to be outside of the castle?!”

Seeing Quinn outside of Hogwarts was a weird experience, although Violet couldn’t exactly say why she didn’t expect the other girl to exist outside of school. Nonetheless, her appearance was a welcome surprise as always. “Yes, I can see that now,” Violet grinned. “I thought I didn’t see anyone I knew. How are you?”

She sighed at Quinn’s question-exclamation. “It’s nice not having to bother with classes,” Violet agreed. “But whatever I thought this break is going to be, it is going way worse than that.” It’s a fucking disaster, is what she wanted to say, but there was no need to unleash the full extent of her disappointment on someone who was the personification of a ray of sunshine, and the warm summer variety at that. 

[nicomulciber]

Sometimes a date is an arse too.

[violet-greengrass-blog]

nicomulciber

There were so many violent thoughts that ran through his head at this minute. Violet Greengrass? Was he really staring at Violet Greengrass? V I O L E T G R E E N G R A S S ?!This was dangerous, she knew about him being a homosexual. If this was the Violet that came onto the pitch field he may as well just start knocking over candles and burning the place down before she could out him. He took in a deep breath placing his hand in his trouser pocket to grasp onto his lighter. Just get it all over with. Everyone could die, Violet and he would be able to live separate lives, and he could somehow get Lucius Malfoy to be just his. This is all over-dramatized in his brain until he hears the hissing words from the Hufflesnake in front of him.

Nicolas clears his throat, “Good evening, Violet.” The ginger mimics the sharpness in her tone, with a crooked smile of his own. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the elder Greengrass and his father watching them like hawks to mice.  He wasn’t raised in a barn contrary to the rumors around Hogwarts, so he did stand up and pull out the chair for her. ”I’ll say whatever the fuck I want to say.” He whispered back to her sharply, but waited until she was seated to push her up to the table. Once he returns opposite to her, he pours her a healthy glass of wine.  Then catches himself before he pours another glass, finally getting in tune with the other bystanders staring at them.

He screams in his head for a solid five minutes, before he offers her a falsified charming smile. “You look beautiful tonight, darling.” Nicolas stomachs the wave of nausea he feels at the situation, and instead waits for the looks to get preoccupied with some other disaster. However, that moment doesn’t come for the next ten, nor the next twenty, nor the next thirty minutes. He wanted to blurt out some unkind questions, but with their head family members not very hard it would all have to be hushed. “This place is groovy.” Nicolas said aloud, but picked up the menu to flip it open. Using it to somewhat block his lips, “What the fuck? This is so weird them being at another table near us.” He whispered, moreso lipped the words at Violet. Then poured himself some wine, because.. they were going to need to swim in Moscato & Merlot to get through this.

This motion in itself made him almost shriek internally at the sheer insanity this evening was shaping up to be. “I.. I need to tell Lucy.”

Violet was no stranger to being spectacularly fucked over because of the people she cared about, but this was a new low. She couldn’t even take out her frustration and anger on anyone, because she was supposed to be content with the match, and if her behaviour appeared anything less than pleased, she would have to explain herself to her grandmother. And that would have been the tip of this horrid iceberg, having to make a decision between lying to her most beloved mentor or breaking her best friend’s trust. 

So pretending it was, as usual, acting the part others expected her to play. Violet took a deep breath and tamed her sharp smile into something more appropriate, something sweet and vapid, as she sat down. The whole situation was surreal, and she focused on that thought instead of the inarticulate screaming the larger part of her mind was occupied with. Fine, this could have gone much better, but at the very least they had a common goal—have this betrothal called off—and a common interest—Lucy’s wellbeing—and they could tolerate each other if they had to. There had to be a mutually beneficial solution to this clusterfuck of a problem, because there was always a solution, even though Violet had no idea what it was. She couldn’t see any way she would win; if the engagement was called off for any reason she could conceive, her reputation would suffer. If they went through with it, Mulciber got the perfect wife to cover his love affair, meanwhile Violet was either saddled with a husband gay for her best friend, or she was married to the resentful ex-lover of her best friend. Neither were particularly great options, especially considering that the only thing stopping said potential husband from harming her was Lucy. 

Sure, Nicolas Mulciber wouldn’t have been the first murderous homosexual Greengrass husband, but Violet always hoped to do just a little better than that.

”Of course you will,” she responded, smile cooling back into something malicious, eyes burning with newfound anger. Maybe she could heap all her frustration on him, being a good friend be damned. She really could’ve guessed that he wouldn’t let her tell him what to do, even in something so minor, but she also assumed that after their last banter on the pitch he would be more careful with his words to her. “Thank you,” she simpered when he poured her some wine, and lifted the glass to hide her lips from the sight of their chaperones. “Stop with the pet names, you arse.” 

At least the wine was good, as expected, but still, in Violet’s opinion it missed a little something, that little something being a healthy dose of poison. “Oh yes, it has such a lovely atmosphere,” she agreed, making sure all who were watching could see her relaxed shoulders and her pleasant expression as she picked up the menu as well. “I can signal my grandmother to leave with your father, but that will make everyone think this is serious,” she mouthed. “Just shift a bit and lean forward so they can’t read our lips.” 

The menu was way too long and held none of Violet’s interest, as her mind spun in annoyingly futile circles. She needed to get out. She couldn’t get out. She needed to find a solution. She couldn’t find a solution. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt at his last words, fury flooding her thoughts once again. “Tell him what?” She whispered harshly. “That we had a bloody blind date? That we are getting engaged? That we will be married? Are you even thinking about a plan to solve our problem or are you just thinking about your own misery?!”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

lilymxrie-evans

Lily loved Christmas, she adored picking out gifts for people and she really enjoyed seeing all the pretty lights and decorations everywhere she went, but the weather was really putting her in a foul mood. The torrential downpour had seemingly come out of nowhere and caught her off guard, leaving her unprepared without her umbrella to shield her. She glanced around Diagon Alley as the rain bounced off the cobbles, and she couldn’t help but wonder what the weather was like back up in Scotland; one of her favourite things about winter at school was how beautiful the grounds looked whenever they got snow.

Deciding that she wanted a break from the weather, she ducked inside the little coffee shop at the far end of the street, the bell above the door giving off a quiet ding as she pushed it open. She peeled off her coat and started making her way over to the table in the far corner of the room so that she could set her things down, but it wasn’t until she got closer that she realised there was someone already occupying it. “Oh, sorry,” she apologised sheepishly, recognising the girl from her year at school—but she couldn’t recall saying more than two words to her at any one time, and she couldn’t quite place a name. “I thought this table was free… Is anyone sat there?” She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite.

Violet considered lying for a second, if only to preserve her cherished solitude, but the other girl looked soaked to the bone, and it wasn’t like she had a reason to send her away. “No, no, it’s free,” she responded, moving her chair slightly to give her better access to the empty chair, “you can sit if you want to. Evans, right?” Violet asked, knowing fully well that she was right. She remembered last names with unfailing accuracy, having learnt early their importance in pureblood circles.

“Sorry, I can’t remember your first name,” she smiled apologetically. “I just know you’re the Gryffindor prefect and you don’t play Quidditch. Were you out buying gifts?”

[violet-greengrass-blog]

The weather outside was horrible, but at least it distracted Violet from everything else that has been horrible lately. She came to Diagon Alley with the excuse of some last-minute gift shopping, but in reality she just needed to be alone with her thoughts for a bit. And you could never be more alone then when you were in a crowd.

There was a new little cafe that opened since September, and Violet followed some people inside. Finding an empty table took a while, as did her order, but she didn’t mind; she was pleased just people watching as she waited for her coffee. When she heard someone clear their throat behind her, she turned with a polite little smile. “Thank you— oh, sorry, I thought you were the waiter.”