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Post by smokie on Feb 1, 2012 22:48:50 GMT 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] the smarter of the students had gone to bed, nestled underneath their covers with their eyes drifting shut and their minds running away to a land that made no sense. a lot of the kids here at hogwarts valued their sleep, and valued the dreams that brought them away from the ugly reality they had to suffer through. will couldn't blame them. no human alive would wish this screwed up life upon anyone, let alone themselves. in all honesty, even she would do anything to rid herself of the sinking stones in the pit of her stomach. but she wanted a permanent solution- and until she found one, all temporary fixes were just lies. so will sat awake, in the common room of gryffindor. she leaned against the back of a dusty old sofa, a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. she wrote with strangely careful handwriting. it was a beautiful contradiction.
the heater kicked on, making a respectfully loud clank underneath the floorboards. will did not jump, but her eyes flickered about the room. she knew she was alone now- but for some reason the sensation of company prickled at her skin. she pursed her lips, ignoring the feeling and dropping her gaze back to the notebook in her hand. dear diary, it read, and continued with words complex and tragic. none of which will would ever say aloud, of course. that was why she wrote it down- so she didn't have to keep it inside but at the same time she never had to make it known.
it was hard to loose a family member. it was harder to loose one who was a father. will had always been close with her family- only years and eye colors separating them from one another. they always got along very well, and never once had a spat that lasted longer than twenty-four hours. by the time the sun rose the next day they were agreeing again and it was as if nothing had even happened. so when will woke up in the middle of night to a crippling heat, her first thought had been them. all of them. she had scrambled from her bed, tripping over her feet and night-blind eyes. she had reached for her door knob and jumped back, startled by the burning sensation that singed her hand. she was quick-witted, and she had used her shirt to turn the knob. what she saw behind the threshold was worth one thousand nightmares. fire. that was all she could see, licking at the walls and hungry for more. she had screamed then, calling for her family. for her mother and father and sister and brother. only her father came.
you never really knew what to do when you watched someone die. it made you feel numb inside, and your brain sort of just stopped working. the sounds of the burning wood had yet to fade, but her father's screams had. she watched in horrified silence grappling for his hands, trying to pull him out of the flames. he was writhing, all over the place. if she had been older, had she been allowed to use magic without losing her wand, she could have saved him. she had that power. instead she reached and tugged like a muggle would, tears running down her burnt face as her hands grew hotter and hotter from the embers. her father had died that day, crumpling to the ground in front of her. she had dropped when he did, hopelessly trying to pull him out. he was blackened, burned, gone, dead. she screamed again, and this time she thought it would never stop.
thinking back on this made will's senses fade. when she shook away the memory with a vigorous nod of her head, she found that it the memory was not the only thing bringing silence. there was a genuine stillness in the air. the heater had shut itself off, and the quiet resonated through the air. lifting her gaze, mona looked around with bleary blue-gray eyes. her ears were still ringing.
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Post by james on Feb 2, 2012 3:02:44 GMT 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] NOTHING TO LOSE WHAT I GOT CAN'T BE BOUGHT.
SO YOU CAN JUST CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - He threw on his jacket, wincing slightly at the way it stretched out already screaming muscles. Just another night for James Potter, really. Detention at centre stage until all of five seconds ago, Filch, the old coot, breathing down his neck the entire time. Scrubbing twenty years gunk off the putrid school supply cauldrons wasn’t in his top ten of punishments. He much preferred the suits of armour. Even the trophies. Filch was more likely to piss off to his lair and James could fool around with his dentention buddy (since it was usually his best mate, after all). His lips curved into a smile at the memory of last week’s incarceration. Clunking around in the armour as opposed to cleaning it had been downright amusing. Shimmying out of it, though, had been downright painful. He still had a massive red scratch across chest from struggling out of the breast plate. The few screams he’d elicited from passing prefects, however, had been priceless. Time and effort definitely well spent. The extra detention when Filch finally re-emerged, the new old Mrs. Norris Junior II trotting at his heels had also been worth it. Really, James shouldn’t have been so surprised the man regularly looked like he’d strap James to some ceiling hooks and leave him there to rot. Maybe he should ease up on the guy... Yeah, no. Who was James if he didn’t push his luck every chance he got?
James waved, blowing the man in question a kiss. “See you next time, luv,” he taunted, turning up his collar and tugging down the sleeves. He smirked, eyes bright. James stood there casually for another moment, long enough to note the way Filch’s lip curled before high tailing it out of there. James may have worn detentions like a badge of honour, but he’d had enough for the week, thanks.
Now he was free, the smart normal thing to do would be to scurry back up the castle and fall face first into bed. The sane decision of students everywhere. But James wasn’t tired in the least. Sore maybe, but not tired. He sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. What to do? No ideas were forthcoming. James half-shrugged to himself, cringing as the motion pulled his muscles again. He’d think of something along the way. His careless stroll throughout the corridors and up flights of stairs was bound to get him caught eventually. Rounding the night out with an impromptu chat with a prefect was always interesting, if not entertaining.
It wasn’t until he found himself, undisturbed, at the fat lady that James realised he was on the seventh floor. Well, okay. That plan was a bust; next time he’d know not to leave these things up to chance. “Hey there,” he whispered loudly, getting the portrait’s attention. She shook her head, muttering about the lateness of the hour. James tilted his head a little, smiling charmingly at her. “You’re looking lovely this evening,” he complimented, face completely straight, then gave her the password. Just as the Gryffindor common room revealed itself, his grin turned filthy and he winked, chuckling lowly to himself as her expression melted from pleasant surprise to open mouthed outrage. Merlin, messing with the Fat Lady never got old!
Entering the common room, James paused, wrinkling his nose. Bed was out of the question. He hadn't the mind for homework right now either. Particularly since he'd finished up the assigned work for Arithmancy yesterday and that was about the only subject he really cared for at the moment. He cast his eyes over to the assorted couches and armchairs, gaze landing on a figure curled up on one of the sofas. It was Willow. There was no mistaking her; in fact, James felt he could hardly call the girl his best mate if he didn’t immediately recognise her.
Sneaking quietly over, he crossed his arms over the back of her chosen sofa and leaned forward. His cheek grazed a few stray strands of hair and James had to stop himself from giving into the ticklish sensation. “Hey, Lo,” he greeted loudly into her ear, smiling expansively. After a beat, he sprung back from the couch and walked round the side, collapsing into a heap next to her. With a put upon sigh, he stretched his legs out, shaking his head faintly. “Augh, my arms feel like jelly.” he complained, rubbing at his biceps. “Remind me to put wandless magic on my list of things to master. If I have to scrub another anything I want to at least give my arms a chance of recovering sometime in the next day. How am I gonna be able to train at tomorrow’s quidditch practice with these?” he asked, flopping his arms all over the available space on the cushions. He left them there like deadweight, palms up, glaring.
Turning back to her, he levelled her an unimpressed look at the notebook clutched in her hands. “What’s this?” he asked, nodding at it. “Please tell me that’s not homework. You already make me look bad on a regular basis, Lola. Don’t bring academics into this too.” he teased with a rather large dash of sarcasm. He sucked in an audible breath, chest visibly rising before letting it out, face apologetic. “I don’t think our friendship could survive it.”
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Post by smokie on Feb 2, 2012 4:04:10 GMT 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] the silence was disturbed by the portrait opening, a rather familiar figure slipping into the common room. well, more like bursting really. james potter was incapable of anything sly, or quiet for that matter. blinking, willow kept her gaze trained on her notebook, trying to finish writing one last sentence before the boy would distract her until her eyes were weighed down with sleep. and the world will swallow us whole, she wrote, her neatly trimmed eyebrows knitting together. it is only then that any human being can find peace. no sooner had she completed writing the 'e' in peace than she felt james lean forward, lips to her ear. he greeted her loudly, and she resisted the urge to turn and swat him away, a small twist of her lips giving way to her fondness of the erratic gryffindor. she looked up, blinking round stormy-gray eyes as she watched him leap around the side of the couch to plop down next to her, rubbings his arms and complaining about his latest detention.
she gazed at him sternly for a moment, pursing her lips. "that's what you get for detention, jamie. quidditch is a priviledge, remember." she said, her voice quiet but naturally sharp and intelligent. one could tell just what type of girl willow was by the way her voice sounded. she had seen too much of the world. when jamie leaned over, inquiring about her book, she immediately snapped it shut and placed it on the opposite side of her, casting him a half-amused, half-reproachful glance. "that's not for your eyes." she said, but relaxed with a small smile afterward, her lips tugging upward at the corners. "however, it was not homework. our friendship will pull through." willow added, shaking her head and righting herself in her seat, scooting until she was comfortable and facing her best mate, scrutinizing him with neutral eyes for a moment.
it always amazed her, how tall he was. somehow he managed to look alright at that height, fending off any lanky attributes with the muscles from quidditch. he was certainly attractive enough- the ladies of hogwarts seemed to enjoy his appearance as much as his devillish attitude, what with the pranks and confidence. but they didn't see the deeper james potter, the one that willow was quite used to. people were onions, with layers upon layers of traits that made them who they are, and this potter boy was no different. of course, it helped that willow had an unusually keen ability to read people. her friends often joked that she had seers in her ancestry, but she doubted it. her ability to pick up on that was something even muggles could have. "so how was detention, other than tiring?" she asked, blinking her large eyes and awaiting his answer in a comfortable silence, a still form.
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Post by james on Feb 2, 2012 9:42:41 GMT 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background-image:url(http://i51.tinypic.com/2nbr3oi.jpg) ] NOTHING TO LOSE WHAT I GOT CAN'T BE BOUGHT.
SO YOU CAN JUST CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Most people didn’t understand James and Will at first glance. Second glance didn’t clear things up any either. If anything, confusion tended to reign over the pair – their entire merry little band, actually – where other people were concerned. They didn’t mesh on some apparent surface level everyone demanded of them. Maybe that was because he was James Potter; all and sundry seemed to have some preconcieved notion of what and who he should be and that, naturally, extended to who he associated with. Coote was obvious. A better match had never risen from the depths of hell. Terrorising Making student life bearable one delinquent act at a time together was a given. But Willow? She didn’t make sense. Apparently. James had no idea. Moreover, he didn’t much care. They could all jump in the Great Lake, please and thank you. The Giant Squid could always do with a few more friends.
But what he did know was that he not so secretly loved that very fact. Ignoring the small detail it did wonders to his ego, it meant their friendship was something special. It went beyond the obvious. Not a shared sorting into Gyrffindor or a love of the same classes (as if he’d base a friendship on that anyway? Did James look like a bloody Ravenclaw?) or some other trivial rubbish. They just clicked on some level and that was all anyone had to know. James was the last person to try and analyse it. All he knew was, he loved willow. She was his best mate. There was nothing and no one who could undermine that. And if they tried? Well, James wasn’t above a few pointed words leading to a nice visit to the hospital wing. Nobody attacked his friends and got away with it.
She looked at him, lips pursed, expression severe. Ah, Will. This girl, acting like everything was a bother and nothing mattered. Of course, James knew better. Underneath all that irritable behaviour was a girl far too sentimental for her own good. The days of her fooling him had long since passed, after all. He sunk further into the cushions, his bearing as relaxed as usual, despite the light frown he’d adopted. “A little sympathy couldn’t kill you, you know,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “You are supposed to be my friend,” he said pointedly. “Best friend, in fact. It’s your job to pat me on the back and make me feel better, not tell me it’s all my fault.” he shook his head, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “You’re walking a fine line, Sloper. One of these days, I’ll wise up and you’ll be out. Replaced,” he stressed, fighting to keep his lips from twitching into a shameless smile.
He actually gasped in mock outrage at her comments about quidditch. “Maybe for everyone else,” he said offhandedly. James indicated vaguely at himself without actually moving his hands beyond a light twitch. “But for me? A third generation quidditch player?” he offered her one of his best smirks, all self-importance. If that didn’t get past her cool exterior, James would be seriously re-evaluating his methods. It was a bit late to blame it on an off day. “I don’t think so. More a right, if you ask me.” he finished, offering her a sly sideways glance.
The book snapped shut, the sound ringing out in the otherwise silent common room. James watched, his interest piqued, as it was removed from his vicinity to it’s new home on will’s other side. Something private then. Journal of teenage angst and emotional sonnents detailing all her secretly soppy thoughts? James felt his lips tug upwards at the corners. The image of will poring over a notebook was far too comical given how she usually protrayed herself. Oh, James was a bad person sometimes, he really was. With a mental apology to the girl, he blinked, gaze leaving the book to search out her face. “Keeping secrets, are we?” he inquired, raising a lone eyebrow. “I’m hurt, Lola.” James clutched at his chest, a fist tugging at the fabric of his shirt. That’s worse than homework. So much worse.” The hand dropped and he offered a forlorn expression, sinking even further into the couch, almost as if he were trying to be swallowed up by it. “I take it all back! This’ll end it. Yep.” he nodded to himself. “I’ve decided. You’re out. Sorry and thanks for the good times. Don’t hit your arse on the door on your way out.”
The act lasted about a second before he erupted into light chuckles. James finally pushed himself back up, scooting a little closer and wrapping Willow up in a quick one-armed hug. “Nah, I could never get rid of you, Will,” he said, tone affectionate, ensuring he broke habit and called her by her preferred nickname so she’d know he wasn’t joking. Honestly, James wouldn’t know what he’d do without her. Probably be in some ditch somewhere a mangled corpse. “Who else will pull my arse into line?”
Shuffling back to his previous ditch in the cushions, he squirmed, finally getting comfortable. When he turned to face her again, he managed to catch the end of Willow’s examination, eyes catching hers at the last moment. James’ brow furrowed a second in confusion, mentally shaking himself. Willow was staring at him expectantly in her occasionally unnervingly still way. As usual. He’d just imagined it. But what ‘it’ was, James’d admit it, was a little daunting to properly analyse. Ever. “Boring. Horrible. The worst two hours of my life.” James rested his cheek on the soft back of the sofa, tucking a leg up under him. “Take your pick. Filch supervised the entire time. It was cauldrons this time, by the way.” he backtracked, launching straight back into his tale of woe. “And that mangy cat was there too; I think he’s finally caught on how much I hate cats. They both looked far too pleased with themselves.” James ran a hand absently through his hair. Merlin, cats were the devil incarnate. They really were.
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Post by smokie on Feb 2, 2012 16:26:06 GMT 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] willow herself had never really been a troublemaker, although she had not been spared from detention her entire school career. she likes pranks well enough, she liked watching them, but those were never really what got her into trouble. the problem was with willow's temper, famous in the house of gryffindor. she had a rage like an angry roman god, striking everyone who could possibly be affected by it. she was not easy to set off, but once someone managed to get her to boiling point, it was all over. fortunately, willow was not one to hold grudges. not for very long, anyway. her detentions were often spurred by a remark in class that caused her to loose her temper. she had indeed went batshit on professors before, her language and her words, while intelligent, rather vulgar and in terms of teenage-vocabulary. but she always had a point to make.
james, on the other hand, as well as their third partner in crime, preferred the classic jokes. they were witty with their words and they alwasy enjoyed pranks on others. they were troublemakers, pure and simple. and, of course, they were famous in the school for that. on top of these characteristics, though, the trio as a whole managed to be trouble magnets, always getting themselves stuck in sticky situations that would lead them to either detention, or worse. somehow, though, they always got themselves out of the issues they had gotten into, which was a relief because will was sure that there would be little others that knew how to approach them to help.
ah, and there he was. joking again. willow simply stared silently, waiting for the joke to pass. he erupted into giggles, a fit of light-hearted laughter that let her know he was joking, though she had already guessed. there were very little things that james was truly serious about, but you could tell when he was about to delve into that sort of topic. her lips curved in a lopsided smile, her trade-mark feature, as she let him ramble on. once he was finished, though, she couldn't help but uttering a small chuckle of her own under her breath. "i'm not sure anyone else is qualified to put you into line." she replied, albeit a little smugly. she took pride in her ability to tame the two biggest pranksters of the school. it was a skill only she had, really, although the siblings of james seemed to be well enough at that job.
she watched him adjust himself, growing comfortabl again in a different position, with a seal on her lips. she remained silent, the blanket of it falling over the entire room. it was broken only when he began speaking once more, and she felt amusement tickle the back of her throat. james was a talker- he had always been good at it. she used to joke that he just liked the sound of his own voice, but it was in their age to talk a lot. the amusement in her throat died, and she felt ice grip her chest at the memory that related to her quietness, her silence. she was an exception. she was jerked from her reverie when she noticed the confused furrow of her best mate's brows. she knitted her own together in response, wondering what had flashed through his eyes, through his mind, just then. still, she shrugged it off.
"i bet they were." she said, her words forever short and simplified, and cool in tone. her eyes, though, they glimmered in amusement and sparkled in the dim lighting. will put herself off to be someone who was emotionless, stoic, rough around the edges. perhaps she was- she had seen too much of the world to ever revert back to normalcy. but there was this girlish attitude she hid from the world- although she was sure james was able to see a good part of it. somehow, that made her feel relieved and nervous at the same time. she didn't want him to know of her history and past- her fear of the fire and the moments she watched her father burn before her. no, that would stay secret. for now, anyway. she shook her head when he mentioned mrs. norris, and let out a half-laugh. "at least it wasn't an owl." she replied, shuddering at the very idea of the clawed birds with their goddamned beaks of hell. ugh, they never ceased to creep her out. looking back on their conversation thus far, she noticed how convienently she left the notebook out of her replies. that was something else she wouldn't mind keeping hidden.
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