racetrack knows you wank

FIC: Never Forgive, Never Forget

2009-11-10T19:28:39Z

Who: Nora Alderton
When: About three years from FTH-verse
Where: Robards-Alderton home in... fuck if I know.
What: I picked a prompt for this. 5. never forgive, never forget and stuck it on there. Alas, poor Nora, you get to deal with your Auror boyfriend's sudden death.
Rating:PG

It was nearly a month before Nora could bring herself to pass the threshold into Gawain's office. What had been his office. It was only hers now. She shut the door behind her quickly, afraid to lose even a fraction of whatever was left of Gawain Robards in this room.

The moment she was inside, Nora was flooded with every single scent she associated with him: pipe smoke, wood finish, those little peppermints he chomped on in lieu of real food when he was particularly engrossed in something - be it a miniature curio or pouring over bulletins from work - and didn't want to be disturbed by eating, lime (which might have more to do with her own shampoo than his), Earl Grey, and starch. She used to tease him for his overly pressed suits, and she couldn't even remember now many times she spotted him unbuttoning the top button or loosening his tie in an effort to appear not quite so stilted. At least when it was the just the two of them.

One of his sweaters - "old man jumpers" she'd always called them - hung on the back of his workshop desk. Nora removed it carefully, as if the very act of touching it might cause it to dissolve between her fingers. She pulled it over one arm, then the other, pausing in between when she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. The chair was cold from disuse, and the little lamp near the magnifying glass took exactly two seconds before the light actually switched on.

When they'd moved from the flat in London to this house in the country, Nora had joked that this was the only room he'd be allowed to decorate. He'd put up his old film noir posters, and there was something dishevelled and disorderly about the room even though everything was in its proper place. Alan Ladd watched out of the corner of his eye, holding a gun up. Veronica Lake glanced down morosely. Humphrey Bogart's hat was pulled down near one eye. Mary Astor played innocent. All of these were leftovers from bachelorhood.

The window in front of the work desk overlooked the tiny garden Nora had insisted they needed to liven up the yard. When the weather permitted, Nora poked and prodded the dirt, and more often than not, in those days, Gawain found himself watching her rather than his miniatures. His eyes would drift to the blank wall beside the window, and after one too many times of noticing its emptiness, he hung a photograph there.

Her mother had taken the photograph of the pair of them during their first Christmas together. He was abnormally against displaying photographs of himself, he said. He'd often found himself caught off-guard that he was no longer the skinny, knobby-kneed boy he had once been. But he liked this one because it was one of the first Christmases he could remember having enjoyed, despite the awkwardness of his much younger girlfriend's even younger brother. He also liked this particular photograph because it surprised him every time that Nora was looking at him like there was no one else in the world for her. That wasn't a feeling he was likely to forget.

In the present, Nora pulled the baggy sweater tighter across her shoulders, buttoned the top button, and leaned her elbows on his desk gingerly. Memories of arguments came flooding back. "You care more about your miniatures and your job than you do me!" "You care more about Quidditch than anything else." "You didn't even send me a message or an owl that you wouldn't be there!" "I waited for you, Nora." It was this one in particular that set off the empty, aching pit inside her. Nora cradled her head in her arms against the desk, shaking with the sheer force of her tears.

"I take it all back! I didn't mean any of it! Just bring him back, please," she sobbed desperately to anyone who would listen. "Please. I promise not to - it should have been m - It's not fair." And though she had no right to complain - she'd had three good years with him which was more than some people got - and that it wasn't fair when anyone was snatched away so quickly, she couldn't bring herself to feel any worse for her selfish request. There was no going any lower; she was already at the bottom of that well.

Nora waited for nearly an hour for an answer, but none came. The shadows began to stretch outside, and soon the desk lamp was the only light burning in the entire house. She forced herself to sit up straight. Gawain might be upset if he came home to find her hair sticking in the painted miniatures, and how would she explain it?

Easy, she thought. She could repaint them. That was a good idea. A brilliant one, actually. She opened the drawers of the desk, pulling out tubes of paint, little vials of varnish, brushes, and a box of - well, she didn't have any clue - but she supposed there was minuscule things that he thought would be better kept in a box so they wouldn't get lost. The box was scratched and dented with paint smears, obviously something he used for storage. Sure enough, inside there were miniature mirror pieces, dainty likeness of books and food and toiletries.

And a box that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than what it was: a jewellery box.

It wasn't the one she'd found along with a fitted wedding band several months after they started dating. That one had belonged to another woman who had broken his heart, and because of that woman, Nora never thought she'd see one of these so long as she continued to date Gawain. She honestly didn't mind at all. She didn't need to be legally tied to him. In fact, it went against (almost) everything the staunch feminist inside her insisted. That woman didn't seem to matter anymore, though, so Nora ignored her and opened the box anyway.

Yes, there was a gorgeous ring inside that somehow captured Nora's Bohemian style, but it was the note that fell out onto the floor that captured her attention. It had been folded up until it was nearly the size of a pea, and it took Nora a few seconds to spot it between her feet.

Snooping ruins the element of surprise. I am, however, willing to forgive your invasion of my privacy if you say yes.

Actually, forget what I said about ruined surprises. That's a load of bollocks.

If your answer is yes, leave this box and this note on this desk. If it's no, fold this note back up, shove it back in the box, forget about it, and never speak of this to me. Ever.

Everything about this situation was wrong. Had Gawain lived, she never would have come in here to do anything than a dusting. There would be no snooping, and he might think that her answer would have been contrary. How long would this have sit in his drawer? How strained might their relationship become if he thought she didn't want to marry him? Did he have some sort of back-up plan for this as he had for everything else?

Eventually, she knew she had to stop looking at this portent of some future that would never happen. But she couldn't bring herself to. Not until she set everything out on his desk and under the magnifying lens as if he wouldn't see them plain as day. She artfully arranged the box and note, but not before slipping the ring onto her finger. Through the glass, Nora made sure the word YES was amplified prominently before she stood up and turned out the light. He was sure to get her message.

In the overwhelming darkness, it was easy to pretend he'd come home at any moment. It was easy to imagine his arms around her, to hear his voice whisper her name. It was comforting to pretend that his hand were brushing her hair from her cheek. Easy to swallow the slightly embarrassed guilt at his mock chastising for prying while he softly kissed her finger below the ring.

Except she knew that come the harsh light of morning, there'd be no forgiving her, and she would never be able to forget.

RPWRIMO COUNTS

2009-11-01T22:52:44Z

For real? You wanna log anything, go for it. I'm down for pretty much all of my fandoms, and I love AU/PSL/Game stuff!

NORA ALDERTON / GAWAIN ROBARDS - Halloween masquerade aftermath - complete log in gdocs| 2735
BENJY FENWICK / GRETA CATCHLOVE - Halloween aftermath | 984
CHARITY SUMMERBY / HALBURIN JONES - Lots of sex/oh GOD relationship! | ###
CHARITY CHAMBERS / NEIL BRADLEY - TBD | ###
MORGAN MACDOUGAL / NICK HARROW - Big GAPING chest wound | 874
BUFFY SUMMERS / NICK HARROW - Probably fighting of some sort! | ###
NORA ALDERTON / MINA ALDERTON - Some explaining to do! | ###
MORGAN MACDOUGAL / CAOIMHE & DOYLE SULLIVAN - Werewolf attack! | 435
MORGAN MACDOUGAL / GAWAIN ROBARDS - Time for drinking | 2293
JAMES POTTER / PETER PETTIGREW - Backhistory stuffs! | ###
PADMA PATIL / MICHAEL CORNER - Halloween fun times! | 526
VOLDEMORT / PATRICE NOTT - Find me that Greyback dude! | 573
ALICIA SPINNET / NEIL BRADLEY - Bumping into each other at the Towering Dwarf | 1227
HEIDI MACAVOY / EDWARD WILLIAMSON - 1st Night after Girls Go to Hogwarts (IN PROGRESS - only bits since Nov 1) | ###
NORA ALDERTON / GAWAIN ROBARDS - 1984 - Uh oh! Baby woes! | 2338
NORA ALDERTON / GAWAIN ROBARDS - Morning After Christmas!Gate (partial - full log in gdocs) | 1811
NORA ALDERTON - AU Gawain's death | 1429
NORA ALDTERON / GAWAIN ROBARDS - Pet name conversation | 1703
JAMES POTTER / LILY EVANS - Lily comes clean about talking to Severus | 1913

14099 / 30000

I suck at titles.

2009-09-20T06:10:02Z

Who: Charity & Doc Dearborn
When: 1975
Where: Dorchester, Dorset
What: Charity contemplates what to do about her marriage and her childless future. Requested by lupinesque in the ANGST MEME.
Rating: PG

Wednesday, 22nd October 1975.

Late autumn rained on south Dorchester's heart for weeks. Most townsman knew to expect the market to pull itself indoors when the weather was like this. The rain got under skin like the cold in Dorset never could. It drove its youngest citizens to torment its elders with whining, and while all the parents grit their teeth and put their foot down, it sounded like music to Charity Dearborn's ears, and still, she stood beneath an awning across the street from the house she shared with her husband.

For two years, she suffered disappointments. Every night, she went to bed with visions of dance recitals, changing nappies, the Tooth Fairy, and split peas behaving as an airplane in a spoon. But every month, she was shredded and torn, trying to put the failures -- her failures -- aside when the pregnancy test came up negative. Doc would rub her back and tell her they could try something else. She'd cry and hold onto him, but there was always hope.

And then, hope abandoned her. The knowledge that she'd never have to come up with creative ways to placate a child ached inside of her. Healers could find no reason why she couldn't get pregnant; it just wasn't happening. Every day, she wondered what use she was - to the world, to her family - if she couldn't do the one thing a woman should be able to do. It never had taken much convincing to believe herself damaged goods, and she excelled at pointing fingers at herself. Her own mother had stopped asking when she was going to get grandchildren.

As months turned to years, co-workers and friends announced pregnancies and baby showers and births. And then they began to say things like, "I'm so jealous of your freedom -- must be nice not to have all the responsibility of kids, to not be tied down." Or "See? It's not so bad that you can't have kids; look at all the travel you can do!" And all the while, they basked in their children's adoration. Meanwhile, Charity thought it must be nice never having to think about the alternative.

They say that no parent should ever have to bury a child, but what of all the children never born? What about all the dreams she'd had to bury? Didn't they count?

Usually polite and mostly forgiving, Charity Dearborn's patience and kindness was tried time and again for these past eight months. Doc's quiet unnerved her, and for once, she could no longer sense what he was thinking. Every look seemed to bore a hole, right down to the broken centre of her. There were other options, Doc insisted. Adoption, surrogates, Muggle drugs and surgeries. Advancements were made every day, after all. For that matter, magic opened a whole new venue of options. They shouldn't give up hope yet, and, he pointed out in that frustratingly calm voice of his, that Amos Diggory's parents thought they couldn't have children, and see how well that turned out?

Of course he would say that. No matter the harsh things she'd said to him these past few months, she knew that he would still do anything for her. Charity had always thought that he was too good for her. She'd never deserved his kind of unwavering devotion, and she was certain that one day, he'd realise it, too. He'd snap out of it, and resentment would follow. Her own pitiful self-loathing was one thing to endure, but Doc's animosity would kill her, and the idea that he could be happy and fulfilled with someone who could give him everything he wanted drove her away.

Misery had begun to set in, and in the fathomless rain, Charity held a set of papers that would fix everything but her broken heart. All she needed now was the courage to let him go.

find_horcruxes: WANTED!

2009-09-19T03:53:03Z

So I'm having such a blast in find_horcruxes that I have finally decided to do up one of these WANTED posts! Let's see here!

Adelaide Banges (shebanges) would love to have her siblings around! Quinn Banges, next in line to take over Dervish & Banges in Hogsmeade, is married to Marion (bangesandmash) who is about to pop out his kid. He finished Hogwarts in 1970 as a Gryffindor. Take a look at Marion's history for more information. Those are the bits of info that I know of that have been talked about in game! I'm sure I'm missing a few bits and baubles but that's the general gist. She'd also love her sister Felicity Banges (finished in 1973 as a Gryffindor), unmarried.

Charity Burbage (mugglemethis) would absolutely love another Ravenclaw from her year (1962) to be fairly lifelong BFFs with. Female preferred, but someone she's super close with would be awesome. Her mother was just killed in game (C is a Muggleborn), and one of her co-workers in the Muggle-Wizard Liaison Department has gone missing.

Morgan MacDougal (bangupjob) would love her eldest brother (former Gryffindor, finished in 1960), the sorta smarmy arse who knocked his girlfriend up straight out of Hogwarts, and married her. For that matter, Morgan would love her nephew Peadar MacDougal (Ravenclaw, finished in 1979). Ian's wife is up for grabs, though there is no name attached to her. Ian has the lovely bonus of being the 7-times great grandson of vampire "Mad" Angus MacDougal, and two of his siblings -- Morgan and Madog (doesnotfetch) -- are already snatched up. A third MacDougal sibling (Gwendolyn) is in the process of being apped for!

Narcissa Malfoy (vainglorious) is really wondering where her loyal ~~henchwomen~~ society ladies are. She will need you to tell her that OF COURSE she's not gaining weight, and her butt is NOT getting big as she gains weight and her butt gets bigger as Draco grows and grows. I'd really enjoy a confidante for her, tbh.

Netflix trial!

2009-09-15T15:50:55Z

Wanna try out Netflix for a free month? Comment here with your email address (it'll be screened!), and I'll send you a coupon!

RP: Neil & Charity - Going to the Chapel & We're NOT Gonna Married!

2009-06-18T15:53:36Z

Who: Neil Bradley, Charity Chambers
When: June 2000
Where: Some huge arse church in London.
What: Jilted at the Altar. Charing Cross history, but it could be mostly any of them with a few tweaks.
Rating: Probably a PG?

It was bad enough, Neil thought as he straightened his tie in the bathroom mirror, that he was at his ex-girlfriend's wedding. What made it even worse was how he felt about her, how he still felt about her after four years. He still loved Charity, and she was marrying someone else. If he'd had any sense at all, he would have politely declined her request to have him be an usher. At least he'd gotten out of saying a few words during the ceremony; Charity knew how he felt about public speaking, and thankfully, her fiancé wasn't keen on having Neil take any part in the event at all, even as a guest. The compromise was that he'd be an usher, nothing more, nothing less. Dempster didn't stand a chance against Charity's stubbornness.

He sighed. He should probably get back to the guests and attendants, just in case anyone needed anything. With one last glance at himself in the mirror (he looked good; it was too bad Charity couldn't see that), he pushed open the bathroom door to resume his position near the front doors of the church to assist guests to their seats. To his surprise, Dempster hadn't arrived yet, but Neil wasn't sure of the proper etiquette for weddings. It wasn't his job to keep track of the groom, anyway, and the man wasn't late yet.

After walking a few more women to their seats, Neil began to sense that something wasn't quite right. People were getting anxious and were starting to ask questions -- questions he didn't have any answers for. All he could do was ask them if there was anything they needed, a drink or the bathroom. All he could do was wait.

There was something to be said that Charity Chambers was ready, and yet the wedding was not going on. It was only a few minutes past the start time on the invitations, and no one really expected weddings to start on time, did they? No news had filtered into the preparation room off to the side of the sanctuary, and so there was nothing for Charity to be worried about.

But she was. Everything was ready, everything was perfect, and though Charity was relaxed when it came to keeping schedules, her stomach was completely churning in her gut. Standing in front of the full length mirror, she surveyed herself. Her maid of honour fussed with her veil, which was doing nothing for Charity's nerves.

"Can you go get Neil for me? Bradley. One of the ushers. I need to talk to him." Impatient, Charity turned to the woman and stared her down. With a nod, the other woman disappeared. To the rest of the wedding party, Charity asked them all to leave. "I need a minute alone, please."

"Neil?" A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and he spun around, coming face to face with one of the nameless bridesmaids, or was this the maid of honour? He couldn't remember their names for the life of him, and couldn't tell them apart, either. "Charity would like to see you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" The woman gave him a curt nod in reply, looking like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes. "All right." Confused, he headed for the preparation room and knocked. "Char? It's me," he said before opening the door and slipping into the room. "You called?" He willed himself to smile. It was Charity's big day, and despite the awful, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he was not about to ruin it for her.

It wasn't until Neil came into the room that she started shaking. It wasn't noticeable to anyone but her, thankfully, but she felt as if she was cold, with no chill. She drew in a deep, shaky breath and then began to fan herself, eyes closed. Everyone who knew Charity knew that she had no problems in the spotlight, so this must have been something else.

"Sorry. I just... needed my best friend." Charity smiled at him weakly, apologetically. She crossed the room, careful not to trip over her dress, and grabbed both of his hands in hers. "How is everything out there? Are there a lot of people? Are my parents all right? Mum's been weird all day."

There was a soft knock at the door, and it wasn't until that moment that Charity caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was 2:30pm. The wedding was supposed to start thirty minutes ago. Madeline, the maid of honour, slipped into the room with an envelope. After handing it to Charity with a solemn look on her face, she disappeared. Charity clutched the envelope, but returned her attention to Neil, waiting for his answers.

After looking her over once, Neil felt like crying and smiling all at the same time. It felt wrong, the entire thing. The fact that Charity was even getting married, let alone to someone like Dempster, the fact that he was late, everything. But she was even more stunning than usual, and that made his smile a bit more genuine. "You look beautiful, Charity," he told her. "Everything's--"

The maid of honour's interruption kept him from lying to Charity, at least for a few more minutes. He was able to collect his thoughts, and, he hoped, figure out what to say without giving it all away. He'd never been a great liar, but if there was ever a time to learn, now was it. "Your parents are fine. Anxious to see you, probably. I think everyone's trying to figure out what the hold-up is, but it's fine. It's going to be fine. How are you, more importantly? Excited?"

"Nervous. Really, really nervous," she replied, exhaling harshly. Neil's hands were warm where hers were cold just about now, and she gave them a squeeze before pulling the envelope from her side. After eyeing it for a moment, Charity's expression turned a shade confused. Shrugging, she said, "Must be a last minute adjustment."

Careful to open it so that she didn't end up with a paper cut on her wedding day, she noted the seal on the outside, not giving it much thought. But the handwriting... she knew it instantly without having to look at the hastily scrawled signature.

Charity,

I am sorry to do this today of all days, and not in person. I knew that if I didn't write this down and now, I'd hurt you even more than I already am. I can't do this, this wedding, this marriage. You are a beautiful woman, but I am not the man for you.

I hope that one day, you can forgive me for leaving like this, and please believe how sorry I am.

Dempster

Charity glanced at Neil's shoulder without really seeing it. Dazed and confused and hurt, something inside of her snapped, collapsed. Her jittery, nervous arms slackened and fell limp at her sides. Fingers numb, the parchment slipped from her fingers.

Neil had no idea what there was to be nervous about -- except, maybe, the fact that she knew somewhere inside her that she was making the wrong decision. She might not have been consciously aware, but part of her had to know. Her wedding day was supposed to be the most exciting, happiest day of her life thus far. At least, that was how Neil viewed it, but he was a romantic at heart. When he got married -- well, he didn't exactly want to think about that under the current circumstances, but he held out hope that he'd find someone, and that it would be incredible.

Lost in his thoughts, Neil only vaguely noticed Charity opening up the letter and reading it, but when it fluttered to the ground, Neil snapped out of his daze. "Charity?" he asked uncertainly, his brow furrowed as he tried to translate the expression on her face. "What's wrong?" He bent over and picked up the parchment, not reading it yet. He didn't know what it was, or if she'd want him to snoop. Fuck it, he thought, flipping the paper over and quickly scanning the words on the page. It took him three times to realise that he'd read the note correctly the first time. "Oh shit," he breathed, his wide eyes looking up at Charity again.

By the time he was done, Charity had somehow managed to detach her veil from her hair. She had the blank expression of someone in utter shock or drugged up to the point of non-responsiveness. She dropped her veil to the floor, then leaned down to pull her incredibly expensive Prada shoes off her pedicured feet. Thunk, thunk. There was no need to worry about wrinkles or tearing it any more, so she slumped heavily into the overstuffed chair.

"How do you feel about Barbados, Neil? Too much sun for you?" Charity asked in a strange, almost too-calm voice. She tilted her head and looked at him without really looking at him.

"What?" Neil wasn't sure he was hearing her correctly. The first thing she had to say after reading the note from Dempster -- after realising that she was not going to be getting married -- was to ask him how he felt about Barbados? That was where she was going -- would have been going -- for her honeymoon. He tilted his head, brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. "Barbados? What, you want me to go with you?" he asked, incredulous. She couldn't possibly be serious.

"I have two tickets. The hotel's non-refundable." Her voice sounded very far away, even to her.

Charity snapped her attention to Neil's face, and for one agonising moment, the heartbreak of the moment was etched in every single line of her face, every single pigment in her green eyes. As she looked into Neil's warm and kind face, her lower lip trembled dangerously, and her emotions threatened to spill out. "I can't go out there. I don't want to see anyone."

In that moment, as Charity looked at him with a surprising amount of emotion on her face, Neil was sure that he could feel her heart breaking piece by piece. His own eyes welled up. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be helping her mother to her seat, and then he was supposed to be watching Charity the radiant bride walk down the aisle towards her future husband and she was supposed to be happy. He wanted to fix it and make everything better instantly, but he didn't know how.

"Okay." Slowly, he nodded. "I'll... I'll figure something out. Tell work that there's -- there's an emergency, I..." He was sure that he would be fired, but he didn't care. If Charity needed him, he would be there.

Neil crossed the room quickly, intending to give her a hug, but once he was in front of her, he froze. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her forehead softly. "Don't worry about them. I'll take care of it," he assured her, with more confidence than he thought he had, "Just... what do you want me to tell them?"

Charity grabbed his hands once more, but this time, she was clinging to them as if he was a life-line. She looked into his eyes, and for one tiny moment, she couldn't for the life of her remember what she was upset about? Something inside her always knew things wouldn't work out with Dempster. Not to mention, would she really want to be Mrs Wiggleswade? Ergh.

She realised that what she was asking of Neil, to go out and tell everyone that it was off, the whole thing, was too much. It wasn't his duty; it was hers. Her hands held his tightly still, and she let her forehead rest against his. "I can't ask you to tell them. It's not fair, Neil. You shouldn't have to be the one to -- I'll do it."

And before he could object -- because she knew he would; he was a doll like that -- she stood up and shuffled toward the door. Taking a few shaky breaths and steeling herself for the onslaught, she pulled the door open. Charity turned to him, looking utterly terrified. "Can you... would you come with me, at least? I don't know if I can do it alone."

"Char, I--" Would never do this to you? Love you? Neil closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Not the time, nor the place. He hoped that she wouldn't read too much into his reaction. All he wanted to be right then was her best friend. There was no point in arguing with Charity, so Neil finally nodded, acquiescing to her request. "Of course I'll go with you," he said earnestly, approaching the door with a sad look on his face. "Anything you want." He meant every word, and he hoped she knew he meant it. "Then we'll get away from here and go anywhere you want."

"You're the best, you know. Thank you," she told him with incredible feeling. Unfortunately, it was likely to be the last true genuine emotional thing she told anyone after that day. Breathing in and out through her mouth, she gave him a nod and began to walk out of the room.

Immediately, Madeline was there, as well as her other bridesmaids. They were buzzing all around her, and Charity fought to keep from waving them off like bees and turning tail and running for the door. For the most part, she just ignored them. Charity's eyes scanned the entrance hall for her brother Nico.

Having been doing a similar survey for his sister, Nico had taken a small excursion to check outside for her. Besides, with all the commotion that was stirring up, he wasn't sure what more to tell anyone outside of offering a shrug and a 'Look, I don't know.' He'd shaken a few people off his tail by making a fast exit, but without any sign of Charity, back inside he'd gone. And, as luck would have it, she was already standing there.

He caught her eye with a flap of his arms, and once he felt she was paying enough attention, threw his shoulders up widely in a shrug while mouthing out in exaggerated syllables 'ARE-YOU-ALL-RIGHT? SHOULD-I-' He made a walking gesture by waggling his pointer and middle finger back and forth. 'COME-OVER-THERE?'

Neil spotted Nico quickly by the wild hand gestures. Squinting, he shrugged his shoulders in response to Nico's questions. No, he didn't think Charity was all right, but he was fairly sure that Charity wanted to see her brother. He waved at Nico, trying to calmly gesturing him over without causing too much of a fuss or drawing even more attention. "Nico," he hissed, holding the infamous and now somewhat rumpled letter from Dempster in his hands. 'Help me', he mouthed at Nico. He felt completely helpless to do anything for Charity, and he hoped that her brother would know what to do, or what to say. Something, there had to be something.

Face set with concern after the returned shrugs offered no comforting answers, Nico nodded and gave a short salute. There wasn't any other way to get over than through the main bustle in the middle ground, and so he plunged into the crowd, shoving people aside. Manners be damned now that something was clearly not right with Charity.

"What's --" Nico had started when he finally joined Neil and Charity, but his eyes fell upon the letter and his mouth promptly stopped moving, simultaneously. Narrowing his eyes at the writing upon it revealed a few choice words of 'sorry' and 'hurt you', and though a picture was quickly forming from just that, he took the letter off Neil's hands to inspect as if there was a chance he might've imagined what the ink spelled out. There wasn't.

Nico pulled his eyes from the page, looking blankly at Neil first, then to Charity.

"Nico, would you be a dear and tell mum and dad to meet me in the prep room there?" Charity gestured to the room she and Neil had just come from. Her voice was oddly calm, but her eyes were completely dead. "Try and get them there as quickly as you can. I don't want them to have to deal with this in front of so many people."

Whether he left or not, Charity didn't know. Her stockinged feet padded across the floor to the main sanctuary. Once at the rear entrance, everyone turned around to look at her. Some people stood up, clearly not getting the memo that a wedding thirty minutes late, with the bride showing up without a processional was not a signal to stand up and smile. Nor was it a time to snap photographs.

For a long moment, she just stood there, unsure of how to just say it. Go home, the wedding is off? Hello, I've been jilted. Enjoy the buffet. Instead, she just backed up, holding out her hands and shaking her head.

The look in Neil's eyes wasn't nearly as blank or dead as Charity's, not by a long shot, but despite feeling like he should be the strong one and take care of everything for her, all he could do was shrug his shoulders and tag along after her. Luckily, the letter was clear enough, so he didn't feel like he had to linger to explain anything to Nico. Besides, Charity needed him. "Charity," he whispered, leaning in behind her, holding out his arms when she backed up. "Do you want me to stay out here and get everyone out? Maybe..." Well, he probably didn't have to explain anything. But he did want to make sure Charity could deal with her family on her own, without worrying that any guests would be hanging around to offer condolences or anything stupid like that. He shook his head. "I'll knock when everyone's gone, all right?"

Nico had given a nod, faltering if only because he felt he ought to linger back with his sister despite her request that he find and hook their parents from the main hall. Still, Neil didn't seem to be abandoning her side, and if Nico had to pick anyone else to keep close when he couldn't, he wouldn't have been adverse to it being Neil.

Ducking back into the crowd, Nicolaus Sr. and Holly were an easy two to locate on the far side, and Nico only paused to throw one more look at the pair that he'd broke off from as a flurry of camera flashes went off. Leave it to friends and family to be enthusiastically daft, he thought, as he quickened his step.

Charity simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak -- not with so many people around. Out of the corner of her eye, she one of her work peers, one she absolutely loathed, but Dempster was quite good friends with her: Rita Skeeter. Eyes widening, she practically bolted for the prep room, but not before leaving a simple, "Don't talk to her; get someone else to get everyone out, and meet me in that room."

When she was safely inside the preparation room, her mother was distraught. Her father was turning purple; he looked so angry. Charity leaned back against the door, listening to the sounds of people leaving the church, confused and pitying. That was the last thing she needed.

It took roughly twenty minutes before Neil was able to return to the room. Once Charity had fled, he'd gotten surrounded by concerned guests asking too many questions, questions that he didn't know the answer to and that he didn't particularly want to answer in the first place. A simple 'the wedding's off' wasn't always enough for some people. Some wanted to know why. Eventually, Neil snapped and told some nosy, gossipy woman to ask Dempster that question, and he stomped off, having carefully avoided Rita as Charity had asked.

When he knocked, nearly everyone was gone, other than the staff and a few stragglers. He knocked first, and then entered the room, breathing a deep sigh of relief once he was inside. Even though he knew Charity wanted him there, he felt out of place there, with her parents, and he knew it probably showed on his face. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight back and forth, uncomfortably picking at his tie with a hand. "Everyone's gone, or... or leaving. Skeeter, too." At least as far as he could tell.

Nico, Nicolaus, and Holly were on their feet, shuffling over to one of the fireplaces that had been temporarily connected to the Floo network for this day. The other was in the main corridor, protected by Muggle repelling charms. Nicolaus kissed Charity on the cheek. Her mother was in tears, patting her face.

It was just Nico Chambers and Neil) left for the moment.

"You'll be all right?" Nico asked, stepping away from the fireplace and up to Charity. Of course, she wouldn't. Not really. It was just the sort of thing you asked when you really meant something else like 'Should I stick around?' or 'Is there anything I can do?' "'Cause..." He reached out, plonking down his hands on her shoulders in the sort of way only a brother seemed to be able to do in one of those rare moments when sibling concern could be viewed. "All you have to do is say a word, Char. I can stay if you want."

She'd already formulated a plan in her head. First thing she would do when she got to Barbados: quit her job at the Daily Prophet. That would free her from the impending gloom of returning to the place she'd met Dempster. Maybe this had been just the step she'd needed to get her own studio off the ground. She could probably pull a few contacts from the her Rolladex there. Roger worked at Quidditch Monthly.

"Thanks, Nic. Go home, have something really greasy and fattening for dinner for me. Maybe some ice cream. I'm going on my honeymoon anyway. Tell mum and dad... I don't know. I'll talk to them when I get back." She leaned forward automatically, kissing Nico on the cheek before stepping away from him. It almost felt like a good-bye, and in a way, it was. "Love you."

She probably knew he was a putting on a smile just for show when he replied, "Fudge ripple, got it." And before she'd backed away, Nico had tugged her into a hug. 'When I get back' seemed telling enough that a hug wasn't out of place if it was going to be a bit until the next time they got to talk. "Take care, Char," he finished, tossing up a salute as a final gesture before vanishing through the Floo network.

Finally, they were alone. Really alone. The tension in the room was still just about suffocating Neil, but it felt considerably more comfortable with just the two of them left. He approached Charity, having remained in the background near the door while she said her goodbyes to her parents and Nico. "So... honeymoon's not 'til tomorrow, yeah? What are we going to do until then? We can go home," he suggested, though whose place he meant, he wasn't sure, "get you out of the dress and... I don't know, order in? Go out somewhere?" He didn't like the thought of Charity having any drinks at all, not under the circumstances, not when he couldn't read her mood anymore, but he had a bad feeling that she might want to do something to try to forget. "My tie's sort of itchy, anyway... not that it really matters."

"Then take it off. There isn't any need any more. Here, let me," Charity told him, as if the answer should have been obvious. In front of him, she began to loosen his tie, her fingers deftly undoing all the knots. When it was done, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. It wasn't the tie that was itchy, after all, it was the shirt pressing on his neck from the tie.

Charity ought to have changed out of her dress, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Maybe it would be easier to play the role still wearing it. Once she took it off, that was it. "Portkeys leave about 10. It's six hours earlier in Barbados. That means we have --" She glanced at the clock. "Seven hours to kill."

"Oh." Neil glanced at the clock as well, and then back at Charity, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Well, I need to pack... and I need to come up with an excuse to get out of work and I need to let them know, so... maybe we'd better go to my place first, unless you want to change first?" All the while, they were skirting around the real issue at hand. If he'd been in her position, Neil was sure he would have started crying. "Whatever you want, Charity." It was still her day, even though she wasn't getting married.

"Let's go to your place," she answered quickly. There might be one of her reporter friends at hers, and she didn't think she could handle any questions. In a flash Chambers and without waiting for his reply), she grabbed Neil's hand, squeezed her eyes shut and Apparated him just down the alley from his flat.

"Are you sure you want to go with me? You don't have to, and if work is going to give you a hard time... I don't want you to get fired on my account," Charity told him as they walked toward his flat. It was fairly clear that she was in problem-solving mode, something she went into usually when she had a deadline and things just had to be done.

The sudden Apparition left Neil feeling light-headed and slightly nauseous, from nothing more than a lack of preparation, but he didn't want to complain. He kept a tight grip on her hand, however, as they walked. "I don't want you to go alone," he explained with a shrug. Even though the thought of going on Charity's honeymoon with her made him uncomfortable, the thought of her going alone was even worse. "We'll just treat it like a regular holiday," he added, mostly to convince himself. "And yeah, I'm sure. I have time saved up... I'll think of something. Even if it's the truth, well. Everything will be fine."

As they climbed the stairs to his building, Neil was only vaguely aware of many sets of eyes following them. Inside his flat, he pulled off his tuxedo jacket and carried it with him to his bedroom. "Make yourself at home, yeah? As usual," he called back to Charity from his bedroom, as he pulled out an overnight bag from his closet. "What sort of clothes do I need for Barbados? It's a lot warmer than it is here."

"Doesn't really matter. T-shirt? Shorts? Jeans? Maybe a nice pair of slacks and a shirt or something for a few dinners? Doesn't have to be a tonne. I think I've got that bit covered." Of course she did; she was Charity Summerby after all.

After shuffling around the front room for a while, Charity stopped in front of a photograph hanging on the wall. She'd obviously taken it; she could see her arm stretching toward the camera at some point. In it, her arm was around Neil's shoulders. They were both smiling brilliantly at the camera, and then she gave him a big smooch on the cheek. His eyes closed in embarrassment, and she could see the tips of his ears turning red. Her finger traced the glass on the frame when Neil came back into the room.

"That one's my favourite," Neil commented, referring to the picture, trying to sound casual. Sometimes, that photograph seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of how close they were without being as close as he wanted. He loved seeing that smile on her face, though.

"Your place now? I can give my boss a call when we get there." Neil dropped the bag on the floor near his feet, grateful to have magic to make packing a bag for a holiday to Barbados a bit easier. He'd changed, while he was in his bedroom, and he was no longer in his tuxedo. Instead, he'd picked out jeans and a t-shirt -- much more comfortable.

"I don't need to go to my place," she said, pulling what appeared to be a small coin purse from inside of her bustier. Charity gave it a little shake, and several bags of luggage could be heard rumbling around inside. "I had it at the church. I'm gonna go change now."

Ten minutes of staring at herself in the mirror and trying not to crack, Charity came out of the bathroom in her version of jeans and a t-shirt: a loose-fitting sundress and matching sandals. "Food? I'm starving. Haven't eaten all day."

Neil's eyes widened, and after taking a second to get over the shock, he laughed. Leave it to Charity to have that already taken care of, and safe inside her dress. When she re-emerged, he was on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, waiting for her next move. "Food it is," he agreed. It was easier to look at Charity now that she looked more like herself and less like, well, a bride. Gorgeous as ever, of course, which was always hard to see, but it was still easier. "Want to go out or stay in? We can order Chinese and put on some lame movie and mock them?"

"Sounds about perfect." Only it didn't, and the slightly droopy expression on her face gave her away. With all the courage she could muster, she slipped onto the couch next to Neil and curled up against his side. His heart and body were warm when she laid her head against it, and though she didn't say it, somewhere deep inside her, she knew that she was glad Dempster had dumped her before it had gotten too far.

This was where she would eventually want to stay.

His breath caught in his throat, and Neil felt choked up all over again. She just had to rub it in a little more, didn't she? Next, Neil was sure that she'd go on about how great of a friend he was. He sighed and put his arm around her carefully, hugging her closer. It wasn't her fault that he was an idiot who couldn't tell his best friend the truth about how he felt, he reminded himself, so he shouldn't blame her for his own stupidity.

He summoned his remote and turned the television on, flipping to a comedy channel so they wouldn't accidentally end up watching something sappy, and turned the volume down low, mostly for the background noise than anything else. "Yeah. Perfect." If it weren't for Dempster, it would have been perfect.

Free Accounts w/Photobucket/Icon Limit Stuff.

2009-04-02T21:39:36Z

So I was going through some of the icon makers out there that I commonly use for searching for PBs, and I'm finding a VERY startling trend. I've counted 10 different icon-makers who currently have "used" 25 gig of bandwidth (some in half a month; some with a week left). That's what you get with a free account with Photobucket. I just don't see how THAT many icon-makers are spiking over 25 gig of traffic, ALL in the same month. It just sounds... fishy.

Straight from the website. "Huge Bandwidth - Up to 25 GB of monthly traffic. Bandwidth is reset every month."

I currently have all of my icons on my own domain, so in looking at my detailed bandwidth usage. Over the two years I've used the domain, my icons have steadily gone up and up. Now I realized that my icon journal is not as popular as most others -- and that is no problem -- but last month, but icon's bandwidth usage JUMPED four gig. Might not seem like a lot, but when you consider that it's been pretty steady at 11.5-12.95 gigs, that's a huge jump. So. I went to look, and there's a few xanga (peacocks, yours are on one of these too) websites hotlinking, some forums, and some random other places. It's not a lot, actually. But it got me thinking...

I really don't think that icon-makers are going over 25 gig of bandwidth on their own, and I really wish I could take a look for y'all and see where the traffic was going. You can do a site:url search on Google (Google images seems to be the best way to go about that). I found that spock has a handful of people hotlinking from MySpace and a proboard. I don't know how often Google caches things though. And I also have no answers for those with free accounts. Obviously, you can lock the folders, but there's nothing to stop people from leeching your bandwidth with the right url, short of changing every single URLs address. I hope that I'm wrong about that. Anyone know if changing your folders to private/password protected keeps people from actually using the direct links to hotlink?

The other option is that Photobucket messed up on free accounts this month and somehow set EVERYONE's bandwidth lower or just had a hiccup. With as many people who have had the hiccup, I think questioning them might be an option. I realize it's free, but they may not be aware that something is messed up. It's all in how you go about it, so be nice if you decide to. XD

New Caprica: RPG (It's really, really long!)

2009-03-16T19:35:27Z

If you enjoy Battlestar Galactica, then you'll have no problems with the dark plot. Because a good portion of the game will be on New Caprica in harsh conditions, the focus will be more about the problems facing the survivors in the climate, with very limited resources, and space. There's only 20 percent of the planet that is habitable, and that's around the equator. We'll be exploring how they live in canvas tents for an entire year, leaving Chief to form his union and give his speech. To hold the ground-breaking ceremony. For babies to grow up a bit *cough Hera*. Some characters will, sadly, not have much to do at certain times (ie., Tigh will end up in the detention center, Zarak refuses to bow to the cylons during the first few weeks of occupation, Athena will be locked up in the Galactica Brig... etc).

Keep in mind, that pretty much anyone CAN be played, but someone like Romo Lampkin wouldn't really have much contact with Baltar, Lee, etc since they don't actually meet him until the end of season 3. This won't be an AU game, so keep that in mind if you ask for a character that's not on the list. Duck, Nora, Jammer... They all have insanely huge bits to play during the resistance, and these otherwise "minor" characters become BIG characters so keep in mind that you don't have to be a "big name" player to get in on the action. Personally, I'd LOVE to see some Sagitaron no-doctors nuts in the game and Geminon religious/prophecy-believers. You wanna play the girl who stowed away to get an abortion from Cottle? Go for it.

For PBs, someone asked if I wanted canon PBs. For the main characters, yes. Definitely. There are more than enough screencaps out there for characters (I managed over 100 for Racetrack at frakkingcylon, and that was by just grabbing a few episodes I KNEW she'd be in). For people like Layne Ishay or Gaffee or Maya... They're not in enough episodes to really have a full 100 set of icons. Now if you're okay with just a handful, you're welcome to use the PB on the show. But those aren't necessary. The Maya actress is in what? 3 episodes, and for maybe 3 minutes tops. I'd recommend trying to find someone who looks SIMILAR to the actor used -- ie., Maya appears Mediterranean to me. Or you're welcome to use pics from other shows they were in. (Erica Cerra, who plays Maya, has been in a LOT: Eureka, The L Word, Smallville, Dead Like Me). If you need help getting a PB or getting icons (BSG caps are RUTHLESS for iconing purposes. RUTHLESS I TELL YOU!), please do NOT hesitate to ask if I have episodes a person was in, or if I could make icons. I have about 11 or 12 BSG actors right now. Helo, Baltar, Six, Racetrack, Roslin, Ellen, Anders, Lee, Billy (awww), Chief, Leoben, Cally, Sharon, Tory.

The only thing I'm going to foresee problems with is the journals. Not all characters will keep journals. We know that Roslin and Adama do -- Roslin is more personal, and Adama's is definitely much more of an Admiral's log. I imagine that Kara definitely keeps one, filled with doodles and curse words. LOL. I do NOT think they'll be computer-based at all, and they will DEFINITELY not be networked so comment wars are, sadly, not going to happen. The game will focus more on interactions -- meaning logs. I know they're time-consuming, but... alas. Fun times all around. I am, however, willing to hear anyone's input on the networking of computers for journals, but at the moment, I am leaning toward 'no' because if they had networked computers, wouldn't Kara have sent Lee and email and been like "I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU LA LA because I HAVE TO GO through DEE."

If you've already put a hold, double-check this to let me know if it's correct, or if you need to drop a hold.

The Holds & the Characters Needed:

MILITARY:
Callandra "Cally" Henderson (Jamie)
Lee "Apollo" Adama (Laura)
Karl "Helo" Agathon (Laura)
Kara "Starbuck" Thrace (Dawn)
Galen "Chief" Tyrol (Jess)
Saul Tigh (Dawn) ^
Doctor S. Cottle (Sarah)
William "Husker" Adama (Sarah)
Layne Ishay (Moz)
Louanne "Kat" Katraine (Whit)
Anastasia "Dee" Dualla (Dena)
James "Jammer" Lyman (Dena)
Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza (Brandi)
Louis Hoshi
J. "Shark" Finnegan
"Easy" Esrin (Andrea)
Specialist Brooks
Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson (Daphne)
Tucker "Duck" Clellan *
Nora Farmer *
Noel "Narcho" Allison
Anthony Figurski
Sergeant Omar Fischer
Sergeant Hadrian
Stewart Jaffee
Captain Aaron Kelly
Peter Laird
Erin Mathias
Hamish "Skulls" McCall
Lieutenant Eammon "Gonzo" Pike
Cole "Stinger" Taylor
Venner
Marcia "Showboat" Case
Henry Cheadle
Mei "Freaker" Firelli
Gage
Brandy Harder
Aaron Kelly
Howard Kim
Paolo "Redwing" McKay
Allan Nowart
Joe "Hammerhead" Palladino
Sian
Corporal Venner
Vireem

GOVERNMENT:
Gauis Baltar (Dawn)
Felix Gaeta (Jess) ^
Tom Zarek
Sarah Porter
Marshall Bagot (Roslin Quorum from Virgon)
Alexander Amiet (Roslin Quorum from Aerelon)
Miksa Burian (Roslin Quorum from Aquarion)
Perah Enyeto (Roslin Quorum from Tauron)
Oswin Eriku (Roslin Quorum from Libran)
Elrad Hunt (Roslin Quorum from Picon)
Sarah Porter (Roslin Quorum from Gemenon
Eladio Puasha (Roslin Quorum from Scorpia)
Safiya Sanne (Roslin Quorum from Leonis)
Robin Wenutu (Roslin Quorum from Canceron)
Jacob Cantrell (Will Serve as Sagittaron's Rep Under Baltar)
Dahlia (Will Serve as Tauron 's Rep Under Baltar)
Reza Chronides (Will Serve as Unknown Planet 's Rep Under Baltar)
Cowen (Will Serve as Caprica's Rep Under Baltar)

CIVILIANS:
Samuel T. Anders (Whit)
Laura Roslin (Jess)
Ellen Tigh + (Laura)
Diana Seelix (Chel)
Tory Foster (Jamie)
Jean Barolay (Mel)
Alex "Boxey" Boxman
Charlie Connor
Maya +
Dr. Michael Robert
Dodona Selloi
Julia Brynn
Enzo
Hillard
Tivenan

JOURNALISTS:
Karen Fallbrook
Playa Palacios
Sekou Hamilton
Kimmit
James McManus

FUTURE BALTAR CULTISTS:
Tracey Anne
Jeanne
Lilly
Paulla Schaffer

KNOWN CYLON AGENTS:
Sharon Vallerii AKA Athena (Jamie)
Caprica Six ~ (Daphne, Dena, Moz)
Natalie Six ~ (Dawn?)
Lida Six ~
Sonja Six ~
Sharon Vallerii AKA Boomer ~ (Chel)
Three AKA D'Anna Biers ~ (Sarah)
Brother (John) Cavil ~
Aaron Doral ~
Leoben Conoy ~
Simon ~

^ = Tentative hold; Dawn could be persuaded to give up Tigh; Jess is unsure about Gaeta.
* = Dies during the events of the webisodes "The Resistance."
+ = Dies immediately before or during the Exodus and Battle of New Caprica.
~= Specific recurring Cylon Agents with their own personalities. The general model numbers will be NPCed predominately by the moderator. These will NOT be in play until the cylons discover the radiation from the nuclear detonation. Challenges will be allowed on these particular characters, but fair warning: you will HAVE to work VERY closely with the moderator (me!) so you'll need to able to work with plotting of the hostile take-over and building the detention center, et al.

New Caprica: a BSG RPG

2009-03-02T04:24:22Z

So, everyone who knows me knows that I am OBSESSED with Battlestar Galactica. I've been DYING for a good RPG that focuses on the characters, well-written etc, and isn't just about shipping wars and the like. Or to create one myself. With the END of Battlestar coming up, I had been having a hard time thinking about what kind of RPG I would create. A lot of characters are now DEAD, etc. And then it came to me: DUH, the year and 4 months on New Caprica. We never saw it, but we know what direction things take for some of the characters so it gives us a year and 4 months to toy around with things, to get them where they need to be by the end of season 2, and then to the Exodus.

Now, newcaprica is still in the beginning stages. The WAY WAY WAY beginning stages, but I wanted to see who would be interested?

Keep in mind, that pretty much anyone will be played, but someone like Romo Lampkin wouldn't really have much contact with Baltar, Lee, etc since they don't actually meet him until the end of season 3. This won't be an AU game, so keep that in mind if you ask for a character that's not on the list. Duck, Nora, Jammer... They all have insanely huge bits to play during the resistance, and these otherwise "minor" characters become BIG characters.

The Holds & the Characters Needed:

MILITARY:
Callandra "Cally" Henderson (Jamie)
Lee "Apollo" Adama (Laura)
Karl "Helo" Agathon (Laura)
Kara "Starbuck" Thrace (Dawn)
Galen "Chief" Tyrol (Jess)
Saul Tigh (Dawn) ^
Doctor S. Cottle (Sarah)
William "Husker" Adama (Sarah)
Layne Ishay (Moz)
Louanne "Kat" Katraine (Whit)
Anastasia "Dee" Dualla (Dena)
James "Jammer" Lyman (Dena)
Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza (Brandi)
Louis Hoshi
J. "Shark" Finnegan
"Easy" Esrin (Andrea)
Specialist Brooks
Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson (Daphne)
Tucker "Duck" Clellan *
Nora Farmer *
Noel "Narcho" Allison
Anthony Figurski
Sergeant Omar Fischer
Sergeant Hadrian
Stewart Jaffee
Captain Aaron Kelly
Peter Laird
Erin Mathias
Hamish "Skulls" McCall
Lieutenant Eammon "Gonzo" Pike
Cole "Stinger" Taylor
Venner
Marcia "Showboat" Case
Henry Cheadle
Mei "Freaker" Firelli
Gage
Brandy Harder
Aaron Kelly
Howard Kim
Paolo "Redwing" McKay
Allan Nowart
Joe "Hammerhead" Palladino
Sian
Corporal Venner
Vireem

GOVERNMENT:
Gauis Baltar (Dawn)
Felix Gaeta (Jess) ^
Tom Zarek
Sarah Porter
Marshall Bagot (Roslin Quorum from Virgon)
Alexander Amiet (Roslin Quorum from Aerelon)
Miksa Burian (Roslin Quorum from Aquarion)
Perah Enyeto (Roslin Quorum from Tauron)
Oswin Eriku (Roslin Quorum from Libran)
Elrad Hunt (Roslin Quorum from Picon)
Sarah Porter (Roslin Quorum from Gemenon
Eladio Puasha (Roslin Quorum from Scorpia)
Safiya Sanne (Roslin Quorum from Leonis)
Robin Wenutu (Roslin Quorum from Canceron)
Jacob Cantrell (Will Serve as Sagittaron's Rep Under Baltar)
Dahlia (Will Serve as Tauron 's Rep Under Baltar)
Reza Chronides (Will Serve as Unknown Planet 's Rep Under Baltar)
Cowen (Will Serve as Caprica's Rep Under Baltar)

CIVILIANS:
Samuel T. Anders (Whit)
Laura Roslin (Jess)
Ellen Tigh (Laura)
Diana Seelix (Chel)
Tory Foster (Jamie)
Jean Barolay (Mel)
Alex "Boxey" Boxman
Charlie Connor
Maya
Dr. Michael Robert
Paulla Schaffer
Dodona Selloi
Julia Brynn
Enzo
Hillard
Tivenan

JOURNALISTS:
Karen Fallbrook
Playa Palacios
Sekou Hamilton
Kimmit
James McManus

FUTURE BALTAR CULTISTS:
Tracey Anne
Jeanne
Lilly
Paulla Schaffer

OTHER:
Sharon Vallerii AKA Athena (Jamie)

^ = Tentative hold; Dawn could be persuaded to give up Tigh; Jess is unsure about Gaeta.
* = Dies during the events of the webisodes "The Resistance."

The game would pick up immediately following the nuclear destruction of Cloud 9 (and several smaller ships), President Baltar's order for settlement, and explore the hardship with that godforsaken rock. Of course, I haven't decided if the first year will be in real time or not, because, let's face it, we really want to get to the occupation of New Caprica, and how things are even WORSE then. It would also invite several new and lovely events into the fold

Euphoria Lane Pimpage!

2008-11-28T03:06:00Z

It's been a long time since I've pimped for euphorialane. I've gone back to JUST moderating that game, which is much goodness, because uh, moderating TWO HUGE games was really draining me. I wasn't doing ANY logging or RPing, and I couldn't even find the energy to bother updating my characters. So now that I'm back and just maintaining the ONE game, I'm here to pimp!

Firstly, we're in desperate need of Slytherins. I know that Terence Higgs, Georgina Bloxam, Miles Bletchley, Melinda Bobbin, Thomas Vaisey, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Graham Pritchard, Adrian Pucey, and Ian Urquhart could use some loving. We're particularly in need of: PANSY PARKINSON, Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass, Warrington, Montague, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini, and Malcolm Baddock. There's room for you at the inn!

Secondly, I want to pick up my Fleur again, and I have a potential Gabrielle, so what I would need is a good Bill Weasley. The last PB was James D'arcy and I'd make icons of him with red hair. There's a serious lack of awesome Bill PBs out there. My Fleur isn't an ice queen with him, not in the least. And not to the people she loves either. And I'd be playing her as having all of her children, so no pregnancy plot. She's also something of an adventurist, considering she wanted to be in the Tri Wizard Tournament, I thought it gave her a bit of an edge.

Thirdly, we could definitely use more Ravenclaw boys. Our Stephen Cornfoot is LONELY without some males around. Terry Boot, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner... you're all wanted! We could also use a Morag Macdougal (and you wouldn't have to keep the old one's history either).

Fourthly, we could use some more WEASLEYS. We've got Ron, George, Ginny, but we definitely need a Percy, Charlie, Bill (see the second point!) and potentially a Fred.

Fourthly, we could use some people who work in the PUBLISHING industry. We have a Seamus Finnigan who would love to have an agent there!

Aaaaaand finally, LUNA LOVEGOOD. PLEASE? WE LOVE YOU. And YOU are Roger Davies' boggart, if that's not incentive enough!

Sheep. Meme. Baaaah.

2008-10-08T21:38:18Z

Okay. I totally had to. Icons for when you're feeling sheeple, and you need to do a meme.

Yeah, yeah.

GAME PIMPING!

2008-06-25T04:55:01Z

For all of you on my Friends List who Role Play, particularly in the Harry Potter fandom (but in PB roleplaying as well), I have a few games to recommend!

EUPHORIA LANE: I moderate this game. It's Post Hogwarts, and only Half Blood Prince-compliant. It's been running for a year and a half now. We'd love some fresh blood. Open characters include: Fleur Weasley, Bill Weasley, Percy Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Sally-Anne Perks, Kevin Entwhistle, Millicent Bulstrode, Stephen Cornfoot, Euan Abercrombie, Malcolm Baddock, any Weird Sister (aside from Kirley Duke), Owen Cauldwell, Ritchie Coote, Vicky Frobisher, Gregory Goyle, Haper, Geoffrey Hooper, Viktor Krum (Hermione is getting MARRIED next month, and it would be interesting to see his reaction!), Jimmy Peakes, Stan Shunpike. The list goes on if you're interested!

APPLE CREEK: AC is set in Apple Creek (made up town), Louisiana, and everyone is based on great literature -- from Scarlett O'Hara to Juliet to Sherlock Holmes, Winston Smith, Elizabeth Bennet, and many others! There are all sorts of intertwined storylines. Everyone is so creative, and it always brings the LULZ!

(NEVER MIND THE) BOLLOCKS: An absolutely GORGEOUS game run by the sweetest girl ever (and my friend Wolfie. ;)). It's MWPP-era, and centered around THE FUN! I currently play Narcissa Black and Benjy Fenwick, and I would KILL for a Lucius Malfoy. There are a ton of characters left over, and the plot is very fun and open. All of the players are SUPER NICE and more than willing to plot!

THE LAST YEAR: Not yet started, but hurry! Characters are being snapped up fast! As you can guess, this is a Deathly Hallows game that'll run the course of the Year of Hell. I play Harry Potter (who won't have TOO much to do there), Padma Patil, and Millicent Bulstrode. It's obviously going to be full of gnashing teeth and cackling Slytherins and people hiding out in the Room of Requirement. GO NOW!

OPEN THE RIFT: Open the Rift is a fantastic Doctor Who/Torchwood/Sarah Jane Smith Adventures game set predominately in Cardiff. Torchwood 3 has been finding Rift Refugees all over the place and sheltering them from the differences from their time and/or planet. The game had a bit of a rough start, but it's back and running and tons of fun! There's loads of characters still left!

List of the most random characters.

2008-03-09T08:17:31Z

A few people have asked for a list of open characters at EL, or just OCs with names since we don't allow "true" OCs. At any rate, all of these have to be ABOVE or BELOW Harry's year, depending.

Abercrombie, Euan
Gryffindor, 1995 - 2002
A small boy with prominent ears; it's implied that at the beginning of his first year that he believed the Daily Prophet's smear campaign against Harry (OP11).

Agnes
Patient in the Janus Thickey ward for permanent spell damage at St. Mungo's Hospital along with the Longbottoms, Broderick Bode (now deceased) and Gilderoy Lockhart. Agnes' entire head is covered with fur and she barks instead of speaking (OP23). The Healer told her that her son would soon visit and had sent her several Christmas gifts.

(No First Name) Alderton
Alleged Muggle-born accused of “stealing magic” and sent to Azkaban by the Muggle-born Registration Commission in the days when the Ministry was controlled by Death Eaters. Claimed to be the son of Arkie Alderton, a wizard (DH13).

Tamsin Applebee
Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory. (Quidditch World Cup game)

Archie
Old wizard with a penchant for flowered nightgowns; Archie refused to wear trousers at the World Cup campground, saying that he liked "a healthy breeze around his privates" (GF7).

Arthur [No Last Name]
Arthur is a character who appears in the PC game Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. He is the younger brother of Marilyn, who appeared in the game Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Like his sister, he is in Hufflepuff and collects beetle pincers, although he raves that his collection is much better than hers. He also owns a "smashing" collection of non-magical cricket balls. It is implied that he has just started his school life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Arthur can be found near the statue of a bearded man on the first floor. He is black, suggesting that he or his sister or both of them are adopted.

Baddock, Malcolm
(born c.1983)
Hogwarts student; Slytherin, 1994 - 2001 (GF12).

Aubrey, Bertram
Hogwarts student, 1970s
James Potter and Sirius Black once received detention for hexing Aubrey and causing his head to grow twice its normal size

Bagman, Otto
Got into trouble with the Muggle Artifacts Office because of an unusual lawnmower, but Arthur Weasley straightened things out for him. Out of gratitude, Otto's brother Ludo then arranged the Weasleys' tickets to the Quidditch World Cup

Barbary, Heathcote
(b. 1974)
Plays rhythm guitar with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw95).

Bashir, Ali
Ali is a flying carpet merchant who was very interested in importing flying carpets into Britain. Arthur Weasley wouldn't allow it, so Ali tried to smuggle carpets in

Basil
Ministry wizard, wearing a kilt and a poncho in an attempt to dress like a Muggle, who worked at the Portkey terminus at the Quidditch World Cup (GF7).

Belcher, Humphrey
A wizard who mistakenly thought a cheese cauldron would be a good idea

Birch, Brevis
Captain of the Tutshill Tornados who blamed their loss to the Ballycastle Bats on a bout of sleeping sickness that affect the Keeper

Blenkinsop, Timothy
(born c. 1976)
Puddlemere United supporter who was 23 at the time of their 30 September 1999 match against the Holyhead Harpies and was caught in the ensuing riot. . He still has a tail because of it (DP4).

(No First Name) Bole
(born c.1977)
Slytherin, 1989 - 1995, Quidditch Beater (PA15, OP19)
Wizard who deliberately fouled Alicia Spinnet in the 1993-94 Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch final, hitting her with a club, then claiming he'd thought she was a Bludger (PA15). Then again, given the usual standard of Slytherin Beater brainpower, maybe it was an accident...

Boot, Terry
(born c. 1980)
Ravenclaw, 1991 - 1998 (PS7).
Checked out Quidditch Through the Ages on 21 August (QA). Joined the DA October 1995, apparently having heard about it as a friend of Michael Corner (OP16). One of the DA members who helped Harry cope with Malfoy in the ambush on the Hogwarts Express (OP38). Terry fought in the Battle of Hogwarts (DH31).

In 2001 Rowling flashed a notebook during a BBC interview that showed her notes on the students in Harry Potter's year and Terry is noted as being a male Muggleborn in Ravenclaw House. Boot's ancestry cannot be considered canon, however, because the notes conflict in too many places with the stories as they were actually published.

Bozo
A paunchy man working as a photographer for the Daily Prophet, Bozo was Rita Skeeter's co-conspirator during their coverage of the Triwizard Tournament (GF18, GF19, GF24). c.f. photographer for the Daily Prophet (CS4).

(No First Name) Bradley
MALE IN CANON
Ravenclaw Chaser, 1990s (OP30, OP31).

Braithwaite, Betty
Daily Prophet reporter who landed an exclusive interview with Rita Skeeter to talk about Skeeter’s then upcoming book "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore"

Branstone, Eleanor
(born c.1983)
Hufflepuff, 1994 - 2001 (GF12).

Bulstrode, Millicent
(born c.1980)

Slytherin, 1991 - 1998 (PS7)
Member of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad in her fifth year (OP32). In her second year, Millicent partnered Hermione at the Duelling Club at Snape's direction, resorting to a headlock despite the standard "no contact" rule of wizard duelling, leaving some black hair on Hermione's robes in the process ... which the quick-witted Hermione saved for use in her Polyjuice Potion. Unfortunately, the hair was not Millicent's own; apparently she keeps a cat (CS11, CS12).

An "M. Bulstrode" checked out Quidditch Through the Ages (6 February) (QA).

Black-haired (or Hermione wouldn't have made her mistake), with a square build and heavy jaw, Millicent was "no pixie" in her second year (referring to her size and build); by their fifth year she was still able to physically overpower Hermione. Both Ron and Harry consider Millicent ugly; she reminds Harry in particular of a hag (CS11, OP32).

In 2001 Rowling flashed a notebook during a BBC interview that showed her notes on the students in Harry Potter's year and Millicent is noted as being a Half-blood. However, Millicent's ancestry cannot be considered canon without confirmation from Rowling, because the notebook conflicts in too many places with the stories as they were actually published.

Bungs, Rosalind Antigone
Hermione came across this name when she was searching for someone with the initials "R.A.B."

Randolph Burrow
Ravenclaw student who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a Chaser in 1993-1994. (PoA)

Cauldwell, Owen
(b. circa 1983)
Hufflepuff, 1994 - 2001 (GF12).

(No First Name) Chambers
MALE
Ravenclaw, 1990s.
Ravenclaw Chaser whose attempt at goal in the Quidditch final was deflected by Ron (OP31).

Chittock, Glenda
(b. 1964)
Popular presenter of the W.W.N. (Wizarding Wireless Network) program Witching Hour (fw89). Glenda appeared as the Wizard of the Month on JKRowling.com for October, 2004 (JKR).

(No First Name) Connolly
Irish National Side Quidditch team, Beater

Cooper, Buckley
Wrote a letter to the Daily Prophet asking for legal advice in the running feud he's been having with his brother. He wonders if the Ministry would "turn a blind eye" if he kidnapped his brother's children and turning them into blood-sucking ferrets. In his response, Dempster Wiggleworth of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement strongly advised against it (DP3).

Coopey, Howland
Wrote a letter to the Daily Prophet's Problem Page, asking for medical advice. He described his symptoms -- green and purple rash between his toes and sparks from his nostrils when he sneezes -- and wondered if it's anything to be concerned about. Professor Spleen responded that was a simple case of Dragon Pox (DP3).

Coote, Ritchie
Gryffindor 1990s; Quidditch team, Beater 1996-7 .
Coote is a “weedy-looking” fellow, but he “aims well.” Harry put him on the team playing Beater along with Peakes (HBP11).

Creevey, Dennis
(b. circa 1983)

Gryffindor, 1994 - 2001
The younger brother of Colin, and like Colin having "mousy" brown hair and Muggle-born, Dennis was the smallest kid in his year when he arrived, and thus almost certainly the smallest kid in Hogwarts; he needed to stand on his seat in the Great Hall to be able to see the Goblet of Fire properly, and still only just came up to everyone else's eye-level (GF12, GF16). However, Dennis is another example of the Weasley twins' saying that "size is no guarantee of power" (OP6), in that he seems to know no fear.

On his first-year journey across the lake in a storm, Dennis fell in and was rescued by the giant squid, which seemed to him to be all good fun (GF12). Dennis and Colin tried to modify a stack of magical Support Cedric Diggory! / Potter Stinks badges to say Support Harry Potter! instead, but all they could manage was to get them stuck saying "Potter Really Stinks" (GF19). Dennis, along with his brother, joined Dumbledore's Army in October 1995, and learned to do defensive and some offensive magic from Harry (OP16).

Dennis was in his second year during the 1995 - 1996 school year, but somehow managed to get into Hogsmeade and attend the initial meeting of Dumbledore's Army at the Hog's Head. He shouldn't have been allowed into Hogsmeade until his third year, unless they changed the rules at some point. Or possibly the Creevey parents, who must be much-tried people, felt they'd save themselves a lot of stress if they just did both brothers' permission forms at once.

Cresswell (sons)
Sons of Dirk and Mrs. Cresswell (DH13).

Crook, Glinda
Works for the Campaign for Greater Freedom for Wizards. Quoted in the Daily Prophet decrying the actions of the Ministry of Magic designed to reign in the actions of wizard-kind on Hallowe'en

Crockford, Doris
A witch in the Leaky Cauldron on July 31, 1991, who was just so delighted to meet Harry Potter that she came back more than once to shake his hand (PS5).

Crumb, Gideon
(b. 1975)
Plays bagpipes with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters

Cuffe, Barnabas
Member of the "Slug Club." Author
Editor of the Daily Prophet (HBP4).

Dawlish, John
Auror, very capable and self-assured. He left Hogwarts with Outstandings in all his N.E.W.T.s. He accompanied Fudge to Hogwarts to confront Harry about his secret D.A. meetings. Dawlish was knocked out along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dolores Umbridge, and Cornelius Fudge when Dumbledore, who had taken the blame on himself, escaped. Dawlish is described as a "tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair;" his hair is grey (OP27). According to Snape, Dawlish was susceptible to the Confundus Charm (DH1).

Derek (No Last Name)
(b. circa 1982)
Hogwarts student, 1993 - 2000.
Stayed over Christmas holidays December 1993 during his first year; Derek was startled when Dumbledore passed him the chipolatas at Christmas dinner, breaking the ice a bit (PA11).

(No First Name) Derrick
(b. circa 1977)
Slytherin 1988 - 1995, Quidditch Beater (PA15, OP19).

Dingle, Harold
Hogwarts student, 1990s.
Tried to sell what he claimed was powdered dragon claw to other students as a study aid; Hermione confiscated and destroyed them because they were really dried Doxy droppings (OP31).

Dobbs, Emma
(b. circa 1983)
Hogwarts student, 1994 - 2001 (GF12). A new Hogwarts student Harry watched being Sorted (GF12).

Dorkins, Ragmar
Manager of the Chudley Cannons, who collapsed in shock when they beat the Falcons in September 1999 (DP).

Note: this date does not fit with canon.

Duke, Kirley
(b. 1971)
Plays lead guitar with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw93). He is the son of Catriona McCormack (QA7).

Entwhistle, Kevin
Ravenclaw 1991 - 1998
Kevin's name appears in the draft of the classlist of Harry's year that Jo displayed during the "Harry Potter and Me" TV interview (HPM). He is Muggle-born. Kevin has never appeared in canon, but his name is listed here because he apparently existed in early plans for the books.

Finch-Fletchley, Justin
(b. circa 1980)
Hufflepuff 1991 - 1998 (PS7)
A member of Dumbledore's Army, this curly-haired Muggle-born wizard was down for the exclusive Muggle school Eton until he got the letter from Hogwarts (so it is quite likely that his parents are very wealthy). Justin was threatened by a snake at the Duelling Club until Harry called it off, thus publicly revealing his status as a Parselmouth. Justin was Petrified by the basilisk on December 18, 1992.

Justin's name is sometimes given as "Fitch-Fletchley," but that is incorrect.

Herbert Fleet
Keeper on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory. (Quidditch World Cup game)

Flint, Marcus
Slytherin, 1986 - 1994 (repeated a year), Quidditch Chaser and captain. Harry thought he looked like he had troll blood. He wasn’t beyond a bit of cheating to win a match (PS11, CS7, 10, PA13).

Q: In the first book you said Slytherin house Quidditch captain was sixth year Marcus Flint. If there are only seven years of Hogwarts, why is he in the third book?
A: He had to do a year again! :-) (Sch1)

"Flint" is a mineral known for its hardness. Arrowheads were made out of flint.

Florence
Probably a student at Hogwarts, a contemporary of Bertha Jorkins, who spied on her and saw her being kissed by some unidentified boy. Upon being hexed as a result, Bertha complained to Dumbledore, the Headmaster:

"He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday..." (GF30).

Frobisher, Victoria (Vicky)
Gryffindor, early 1990s.
Involved in many school activities, particularly Charms Club. Tried out for Gryffindor Keeper in autumn 1995 and flew better than Ron Weasley; however, she was rejected because she said that Charms Club would rank higher in her priorities than Quidditch in the event of a conflict (OP13).

Goldstein, Anthony
(b. circa 1980)
Ravenclaw, 1991 - 1998; Prefect 1995 - 1998
A student in Harry’s year (OP10) who became a member of the D.A. (OP16). Anthony fought in the Battle of Hogwarts (DH29 ff.).

Goyle, Gregory
Hair: short, bristly, extends down onto his forehead.
Eyes: small, dull, deep-set.
Voice: low and raspy (CS12).
Distinguishing features: thickset and extremely mean, "almost as stupid as he [is] mean". Polyjuice Potion to turn someone into Goyle is the khaki color of a booger (CS12).
Age: born 1980.
Ancestry: Goyle's ancestry is never mentioned in the books, however, in 2001 Rowling flashed a notebook during a BBC interview that showed her notes on the students in Harry Potter's year and Gregory is noted as being a Pureblood. This information cannot be considered canon, however, because the notes conflict in too many places with the stories as they were actually published.

Gregory Goyle is one of Draco Malfoy’s thuggish cronies. Goyle has short, bristly hair that extends down onto his forehead. His eyes are small, dull, and deep set, and he speaks with a low, raspy voice. He’s a mean bully who enjoys whatever chance he gets to boss people around, whether as a member of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad in his fifth year or using the Cruciatus Curse on other students in his seventh. Polyjuice Potion to turn someone into Goyle is the khaki color of a booger (CS12). Goyle’s interests include chuckling trollishly, smirking, laughing syncophantically, cracking his knuckles, flexing his muscles, sniggering stupidly, and rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way. He doesn’t like writing. Why is that not surprising? (OP10). Goyle's father is a Death Eater (OP).

Graves, Merton
(b. 1978)
Plays cello with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw99).

Greengrass, Astoria (also given as Asteria)
(b. circa 1982)
Astoria is the younger sister of Daphne. She entered Hogwarts two years after her sister and eventually married Draco Malfoy. Their only child was named Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.

The spelling of Astoria/Asteria's name is in question because it was given as Astoria by Time Magazine, and as Asteria in the hand-drawn family tree shown in the ITV documentary and on Jo's website. Jo also pronounces it Astoria.

Gudgeon, Davy
(b. circa 1960)
Hogwarts student c. 1970s
Foolhardy student who once tried to get past the Whomping Willow, nearly losing an eye (PA10).

Gudgeon, Galvin
Galvin Gudgeon is the hapless Seeker for the Chudley Cannons. Manager Ragmar Dorkins implored fans not to curse him during the match, since "turning him into a toad will not help his game." Gudgeon did miss several excellent opportunities during a match with the Appleby Arrows when the Snitch twice bounced off his nose. In a match with the Tornados, Gudgeon fell off his broom while trying to catch a passing bumble-bee (DP).

Gudgeon, Gladys
Writes weekly fan mail to Lockhart (CS7, OP23).

Gulch, Zamira
Author of Practical Household Magic, who also writes for the Daily Prophet advice column (DP3).

Gumboil, Alastor
Employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to whom applicants for "Hit Wizard" positions need to apply. He is in Room 919 (DP).

(No First Name) Harper
Hogwarts student, Slytherin. Mentioned 1996-97. Substituted as Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team for Vaisey after the latter was injured during their practice (HBP14).

Harris, Warty
Wizard whose toads were stolen by "Will" and then again by Mundungus Fletcher, who sold them back to Warty (OP5).

Higgs, Bertie
Hunting buddy of Cormac McLaggen's uncle Tiberius (HBP7).

Hooper, Geoffrey
(b. circa 1983)
Tried out for Gryffindor Keeper in autumn 1995 and flew better than Ron Weasley, but was rejected because Angelina said he was a real whiner (OP).

Hurtz, Grizel
The “agony aunt” of the Daily Prophet, who helps write its advice column (DP).

Duncan Inglebee
Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team in the 1993-1994 school year. (PoA game)

Jenkins, Joey
Beater for the Chudley Cannons. His image hit a Bludger toward a Ballycastle Bats Chaser in a moving picture in the book Flying with the Cannons (GF2).

Jones, Hestia
New member of the Order of the Phoenix. Pink-cheeked, black-haired witch who was part of the Advance Guard that helped Harry in his escape from Privet Drive (OP3), and assigned to escort the Dursleys to safety before Harry's departure (DH3).

Jorkins family
Primrose and Albert Jorkins, already the parents of Grimwold and Granville, had a third baby, Griselda Harmonia, whose December 6, 1998 birth was announced in the Daily Prophet (DP).

Jorkins, Stamford
Ministry spokesperson, interviewed regularly by the Daily Prophet (DP4).

Kirke, Andrew
Gryffindor, mid 1990s; Quidditch Beater, 1995-6.
Kirke was at least a second year during the 1995 - 1996 school year, and became a Beater on the Quidditch team after Fred and George were banned (OP21). Unfortunately he wasn’t very good – the most memorable moment of his season was when he fell backwards off his broom in fright during a match against Hufflepuff (OP26).

The name Andrew Kirke combines the names of the magician (Andrew Ketterley) and his nephew (Digory Kirke) of the title of The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis.

Krum, Viktor
(b. 1977)

Bulgarian Seeker at the Quidditch World Cup, August 1994-95.
A famous international Quidditch player while still in school (GF8), Viktor Krum attended Hogwarts for the 1994-1995 school year, and represented Durmstrang Institute as their 1994 - 1995 Triwizard Tournament champion (GF16). Though a number of girls spent the year fawning over him (GF19), Krum became interested in Hermione, who accompanied him to the Yule Ball (GF23) and was the person he would “sorely miss,” held hostage in the second task (GF8). Despite his surly nature and Ron’s jealousy (OP21), Krum was always kind to Harry (GF37).

Krum was still corresponding with Hermione a year after the Triwizard Tournament (OP21), although she appeared to have declined his invitation to visit during the summer of 1995 (GF27). He saw Hermione and Harry again (though Harry was in disguise) at Fleur Delacour’s wedding; there he took exception to the symbol of the Deathly Hallows that Xeno Lovegood was wearing, thinking it to be the symbol of Gellert Grindelwald. He also complained to Harry, “Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?” (DH8).

Lawson, Artemius
Outspoken notorious campaigner for the suppression of trolls. He objects to letting them wander free, referring to trolls as creature who weigh a ton and have brains the size of a bogey. He has a point (DP2).

Heidi Macavoy
Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory. (Quidditch World Cup game)

MacDonald, Mary
Student at Hogwarts at the same time as Lily Evans and Severus Snape. Supposedly attacked with Dark Magic by Mulciber while at school, outraging Lily (DH33).

MacDougal, Morag
Hogwarts student 1991 - 1998. A young witch or wizard who was Sorted as a member of Harry’s class (PS7).

According to an early list of Harry's classmates that Rowling displayed during an interview (HPM), Morag's name may originally have been Isabel MacDougal. If so (and this document can't really be considered canon), she is a Ravenclaw student from a pure-blood family (HPM).

MacFusty clan
Family of wizards who live in the Hebrides Islands and traditionally care for the Hebridean Black dragons of the islands (FB).

Maddock, Alasdair
Chaser for the Montrose Magpies who gets a bit over-interested in Muggle sports. Following attempts to dribble the Quaffle like a basketball and hit the Quaffle with his head like afootball player, he was discharged from the team (DP).

Marius
Wizard bearing a Probity Probe in front of Gringotts who utterly failed to stop the break-in of the Lestrange vault or the break-out of the dragon (DH24).

Marsh, Madam An elderly witch who seems prone to motion sickness, but nevertheless braves the Knight Bus. During Harry's first trip on the Knight Bus, Madam Marsh disembarked at Abergavenny and seemed queasy (PA3). On Harry's second trip (during his fifth year), Madam Marsh became ill and vomited; she was let off first, before anyone else, which suited the other passengers just fine (OP24).

Marilyn
Marilyn is a character who appears in the PC game Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. She is a Hufflepuff girl who can be found outside the room where Fred and George Weasley give the "wizard card" of Bertie Bott to Harry Potter. She appears standing next to a window with a Slytherin girl who tells Harry that Marilyn is "a bit off."

Marilyn was slightly shorter than Harry, had blonde hair worn in a ponytail and collected beetle pincers. In the PC game Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, it is revealed she has a younger brother named Arthur.

McCormack, Meghan
Daughter of Catriona; Currently plays Keeper for the Pride of Portree (QA7). Sister to Kirley Duke (stage name).

McDonald, Natalie
(b. circa 1983)

Gryffindor, 1994 - 2001 (GF12).
Natalie's name comes from a Canadian girl who was very sick. She loved the Harry Potter books and contacted JKR. The author wrote her and told her some of the secrets of the books to come, but Natalie had died by the time the letter arrived. Natalie's mother responded and she and JKR have since become friends. Jo put Natalie in GF, sorted into Gryffindor, as a tribute (QQQ).

McLaggen, Cormac
Gryffindor 1990 - 1997; substitute Quidditch team Keeper after Ron was poisoned (HBP19).
A "large, wiry-haired youth" and member of the Slug Club. Has a famous "Uncle Tiberius" who was a favorite student of Horace Slughorn's (HBP7). During his seventh year Cormac tried out for Keeper of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but was beaten out by Ron for the position when Hermione Confunded Cormac during the tryouts (HBP11). Cormac did not accept this defeat gracefully. In fact, he displays the downside of Gryffindor bravery: arrogance and foolhardiness. When he finally did get in a game, he was so busy telling everyone else what to do that he failed at his own job, and gave Harry a cracked skull to boot, losing the match for the team (HBP19).

The role of Cormac in the 6th movie is played by Freddie Stroma.

Midgen, Eloise
Hogwarts student, early 1990s.
Tried to curse off her acne and had to have her nose reattached by Madam Pomfrey (GF13). To this day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione speak of her as the standard against which really bad acne must be measured. Eloise may be in Hufflepuff, since the Hufflepuffs chatted about her in a very familiar way in Herbology class (GF13). Eloise was one of the first students to be removed from Hogwarts by their parents (HBP11).

Montague
(b. circa 1978)
Slytherin, c. 1989 - 1996, Quidditch Chaser/captain
Member of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad who made the mistake of trying to take House Points from the Weasley twins without witnesses, and consequently was stuffed by them into the first floor Vanishing Cabinet; reappeared some days later jammed into a toilet on the fourth floor, after which he was confused and disoriented for a long time (OP19, OP28, OP30).

Montgomery sisters
Hogwarts students, 1990s.
Twin sisters whose 5-year-old brother was bitten by Fenrir Greyback in the spring of 1997 because their mother would not help the Death Eaters. Their brother died at St. Mungo's (HBP22).
(We have Lauren Montgomery, so we can the other twin!)

Moonshine, Regulus
A professor who claimed to have developed a potion that would decrease the hag’s natural desire for human flesh. He had several chunks of flesh missing himself, thanks to his test subjects (DP).

Morgan, Valmai
Holyhead Harpies Chaser who replaced Wilda Griffiths on the team, after she left for a 1000 Galleon fee to join Puddlemere United

Munch, Eric
A "badly-shaven" watchwizard at the Ministry of Magic, who during the day sits at the security desk in the Atrium where visitors are required to present their wands for registration (OP7, OP14). Arrested Sturgis Podmore on charges of trespass and attempted robbery upon catching him outside the Department of Mysteries at one o'clock in the morning on 31 August 1995 (OP14).

Maxine O'Flaherty
Beater on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory.

Nettles, Madam Z.
Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham, along with D.J. Prod, was apparently a happy customer of Argus Filch's Kwikspell course. Before Kwikspell, she "had no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke!" (CS8)

Oddpick, Winkus
Wrote an editorial to the Daily Prophet entitled "Why can't goblins be more like elves?" after the Chipping Clodbury riot (DP).

Oglethorpe, Dunbar
(b. 1968)
Chief of Q.U.A.B.B.L.E., the Quidditch Union for the Administration and Betterment of the British League and its Endeavors (fw).

Ollivander, Mr.
An old wandmaker – “the best” – who who runs Ollivander's on Diagon Alley (HBP6). He has eerie, moon-like eyes and makes Harry a bit uncomfortable, as he seems just as fascinated by the power of wands used for evil as those used for good. Ollivander remembers every wand he has ever sold, and greets people by rattling off the specifications of their wands (PS5, DH24).

Ollivander was kidnapped shortly after Voldemort’s return was made public, in summer 1996; Voldemort was in search of information about his and Harry’s wands (HBP6, DH5). He was held captive in Malfoy Manor for a year and a half, tortured, and forced to make wands (DH24). He escaped with the help of Dobby (DH23) and hid at Auntie Muriel’s for the remainder of the war (DH26).

Grant Page
Ravenclaw student who attended Hogwarts. He was a Keeper in 1993-1994.

Pansy Parkinson
Born: c. 1980
Slytherin, 1991 - 1998.

Pansy Parkinson, copyright Warner Brothers.Described by Harry as "a hard-faced Slytherin girl" (PS8) and as having a face like a pug (PA6, GF27). She was the ringleader of a "gang of Slytherin girls" (OP25), and she doted on Draco Malfoy; she showed considerable concern when he was gored by a hippogriff during their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson (PA6), and was Draco's date for the Yule Ball (GF23). Like Draco, Pansy tends to pick on and try to intimidate those who are weaker -- or just different -- than she.

Pansy’s true colors – not to mention her sheer stupidity – showed through the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, when she heard Voldemort’s demands for Harry to be turned over and yelled for someone to grab him. McGonagall made sure she was the first one out the door (DH31).

Possible name origin
A pansy is a kind of violet. In magical terms, it is noteworthy for its appearance in Shakespeare's play "A Midsummer Night's Dream," in which it is referred to by its other name of "love-in-idleness." In the play, Puck used the juice of the pansy to cause most of the trouble, squeezing drops of it onto the eyes of unsuspecting sleepers to cause them to fall in love with the next creature they saw. We do not know if the juice of the pansy has similar properties in the Harry Potter universe, however. -- MLW

Peakes, Jimmy
(b. circa 1983)
Gryffindor, 1994 - 2001; Quidditch team, Beater.
A "short but broad-chested third-year boy;" he is two-thirds Ron's height. Plays Quidditch "ferociously." (HBP11)

Peasegood, Arnold
Obliviator for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad (GF7) and trained Hit-Wizard (DP). Arnie arrested three goblins at the Chipping Clodbury riot and suffered a minor attack of boils (DP).

Philpott, Arkie
Arkie ran afoul of a Probity Probe at after the goblins tightened security at Gringotts (HBP6).

Pips, Dagbert
Proprietor of Pumpkins R Us, who complained to a Daily Prophet reporter that a restriction on Hallowe'en celebrations would hit pumpkin-growers particularly hard (DP).

Plunkett, Josiah
Quidditch referee for the match between the Pride of Portree and the Appleby Arrows during which one Seeker transfigured the other’s head into a cabbage. The excuse given to Plunkett, apparently, was that the cabbage-headed Seeker had cast a Jelly-Fingers curse on the first Seeker during their race for the Snitch, so he deserved to be “cabbaged” (DP3).

Poke, Royden
One of the representatives of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at a meeting with the Brotherhood of Goblins in Chipping Clodbury that erupted into a riot. Poke was quoted in the next day's Daily Prophet as saying "Don't ask me what started it. I thought we were getting along fine until I heard the first explosion" (DP).

Poliakoff
Male student from Durmstrang, treated with disdain by Karkaroff despite the fact that he must have been a rather talented wizard to make the Durmstrang short list for the Triwizard Tournament. Karkaroff only paid attention to his star pupil, Viktor Krum (GF16).

Malcolm Preece
Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory.

Primpernelle, Madam
Witch who produces a line of Beautifying Potions from Diagon Alley (DP).

Purkiss, Doris
In the summer of 1995, The Quibbler printed an interview with Doris Purkiss, who claimed that Sirius Black was really Stubby Boardman, and that Stubby had been enjoying a romantic dinner with her the day of the murder of the Potters and therefore had an alibi (OP10).

Anthony Rickett
Beater on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team when it was captained by Cedric Diggory.

Rufford, Grugwyn
Disgruntled member of the National Welsh Gobstones Team, who complained to the Daily Prophet because they didn't cover the Welsh victory over Hungary. The editor responded that this was because people thought Gobstones was "deeply boring" (DP).

(No First Name) Runcorn
Hogwarts student in Harry's year?

Jason Samuels
Ravenclaw student who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a Beater in 1993-1994.

Kingsley Shacklebolt
Tall, bald black wizard who has a deep slow voice and wears a single gold hooped earring. Part of the Advance Guard that helped Harry in his escape from the Dursley house to 12 Grimmauld Place (OP3).

When the Order of the Phoenix reformed in 1995, special effort was made to recruit spies within the Ministry of Magic (OP5). Shacklebolt was one of two Aurors who joined (the other was Tonks). He and Arthur Weasley pretend not to get along with each other at work (OP7).

Although Kingsley was supposed to be the Auror in charge of the search for Sirius Black, his search was a sham. Among other things, he reported that Sirius was in Tibet (OP5); Shacklebolt was so successful at protecting Sirius that the Ministry never found him (OP4-9). Shacklebolt also took turns guarding the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies when it was thought that Voldemort would try to steal the one regarding him and Harry (OP9). Shacklebolt fought with the Order of the Phoenix at the battle of the Department of Mysteries (OP35).

Kingsley's towering size, intellect, power, and calm confidence is frequently reassuring to the others around him. He can be intimidating too: even Dolores Umbridge backed down when he reproached her (OP27). He has a similar effect on Muggles, partly due to his unusual ability to dress like them (DH3). When Scrimgeour became Minister and Shacklebolt was reassigned to undercover security for the Muggle Prime Minister, he quickly became invaluable to the staff at 10 Downing Street (HBP1). Kingsley impressed Vernon Dursley so much that he wanted him to be his escort when the Dursley's evacuated the house on Privet Drive (DH3).

This confidence is never misplaced. It is Shacklebolt who saves Harry and the other guests at Bill and Fleur's wedding when he sends his Patronus to warn everyone that the Ministry had fallen to Voldemort's Death Eaters (DH8).

Shacklebolt became Minister of Magic after Voldemort's defeat (DH36), employing Harry, Ron and Neville (PC/JKR1) immediately after the battle to apprehend the rest of Voldemort's followers. Harry was also asked to help reform the Ministry, and was eventually appointed to be head of the Auror Department (BLC). Together they Harry and Shacklebolt led the Ministry and the wizarding world into much better times.

Patronus: a lynx (DH8).
Skills: Wordless spells (he wordlessly modified Marietta's memory) (OP27), dressing like a Muggle (DH3), calmness under fire, incorruptible reformer.
Name meaning: Shacklebolt="bolt which passes through the eyes of a shackle" (OED). In heraldry, the shacklebolt symbolizes "victory; one who has taken prisoners or rescued prisoners of war." (fleurdelis).

Shunpike, Stan
(b. circa 1975)
Young, pimply conductor of the Knight Bus whose accent is Cockney. He wears a purple uniform, has large protruding ears, and quite a few pimples. Stan is about 5 years older than Harry (PA3).

Stan was arrested in the fall of 1996 for “suspicion of Death Eater activity” (HBP11), shocking and outraging members of the Order of the Phoenix (HBP15). Harry used Stan’s situation repeatedly as an example of why he was unwilling to work with Scrimgeour (HBP16, HBP30).

Stan escaped from Azkaban during a hushed-up mass breakout in 1997, and spent the rest of the year fighting with the Death Eaters and helping out Snatchers, clearly under the Imperius Curse (DH4, DH23).

Skeeter, Rita
(b. circa 1951)

Reporter for the Daily Prophet, and an unregistered Animagus. Covered the trials at the end of the Voldemort years (GF30). Captured in beetle form by Hermione, June 24, 1995, and imprisoned in a jar; currently unemployed, since Hermione will reveal her illegal Animagus status if Rita writes anything (GF). Hermione made Rita interview Harry about the true story of Voldemort's return, which was printed in The Quibbler (OP).

Skively, Harold
In a letter to the Daily Prophet, the appropriately-named Skively suggested that the Wizarding community celebrate a day to honor Merlin, since, as he put it, he "could do with an extra day's holiday around August." (DP)

Slinkhard, Wilbert
Author of Defensive Magical Theory, assigned for Defense Against the Dark Arts classes by Umbridge (OP9, 12).

Sloper, Jack
Gryffindor, mid 1990s; Quidditch Beater, 1995-6.

A Gryffindor student in the mid-1990s and a replacement Beater on the Quidditch team after Fred and George were given lifetime bans. He wasn’t very good – his most memorable moment of the season was missing a Bludger and hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat instead (OP26).

Smethwyk, Hippocrates
Healer-in-Charge on the Dai Llewellyn ward at St. Mungo's Hospital when Arthur Weasley was there recovering from a snake bite (OP22).

Smith, Zacharias
Hufflepuff, 1990s.

A real winner of a guy who seems to offend people every time he speaks. Zacharias joined Dumbledore's Army after overhearing Ernie and Hannah talking about it, and was immediately a constant skeptic, not shutting up until Fred and George threaten him with a “long and lethal-looking metal instrument” (OP16) and Harry pointed out that Expelliarmus, a spell Zacharias scoffed at, had saved his life while dueling with Voldemort (OP18).

A year later, he was hardly a year wiser, pestering Ginny for details about the Department of Mysteries until she got fed up and nailed him with a Bat-Bogey Hex (HBP7). Zacharias also commentated for a Quidditch match that year, making the Gryffindors so mad that the moment the match ended, Ginny barreled straight into him on her broom (HBP14). Finally, Zacharias ended his illustrious Hogwarts career in style by not only being the only D.A. member not to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, but by beating down first years to be the first one out when the school was evacuated (DH31).

Zacharias='Zechariah' was a minor prophet of the Old Testament, author of the Book of Zechariah.

Snell, Barnaby
A fan of the Chudley Cannons quidditch team who was quoted in the Daily Prophet in disbelief after the team defeated the Wigtown Wanderers, ending a seventeen-game losing streak (DP3).

Spinnet, Alicia
(b. circa 1978)
Gryffindor 1989 - 1996; Quidditch Chaser 1991-1996

A staple on the Gryffindor Quidditch team during Harry’s first five years at Hogwarts, Alicia was a strong Chaser whose talent was discovered by Oliver Wood (PS7, PA8).

Spleen, Professor Helbert
A Healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital, Professor Spleen also writes for a Daily Prophet advice column. In one such issue, he gives advice to a wizard with Dragon Pox (DP3).

Spungen
Both 'Spinks' and 'Spungen' were names Rowling considered for Draco Malfoy's last name. They appear together in the draft of the classlist of Harry's year that Jo displayed during the "Harry Potter and Me" TV interview (HPM). 'Spungen' is also visible on a "Very early draft of Philosophers Stone" available on Jo's website. These names have never been used in the books and cannot be considered canon.

Stimpson, Patricia
Hogwarts student 1989 - 1996 (Gryffindor?)
A Hogwarts student in Fred and George’s year. George mentions that she had a minor breakdown in their O.W.L. year (OP12).

Jeremy Stretton
Ravenclaw Hogwarts student. He was a Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team during the 1993-1994 season. His status on the team is not revealed during the 1995-1996 season since there was no 1994-1995 season due to the Triwizard Tournament.

(No First Name; Must be Male) Summers
Hufflepuff, 1990s, Like Fred and George Weasley, he tried taking an Aging Potion in order to put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and was sent to the hospital wing with a beard (GF16).

Thruston, Orsino
(b. 1976)
Plays drums with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw98).

Tremlett, Donaghan
(b. 1972)
Bass player with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters, and a big Kenmare Kestrels supporter (fw94). According to the Daily Prophet, he was married in the fall of 1995 (OP14).

Timms, Agatha
Owner of an eel farm, she bet with Ludo Bagman over the Quidditch World Cup match (GF7).

Trimble, Quentin
Author of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection (PS5) .

Twiddle, Mallory
Mallory Twiddle wrote a letter to the Daily Prophet, complaining that Gringotts was using Sphinxes to guard its high security vaults. Apparently, Twiddle had encountered one of these guardians and had spent a frustrating hour trying to figure out its riddles. Eventually, the Sphinx chased him out of the bank (DP).

(No First Name; Must be Male) Urquhart
Slytherin, 1990s
Interestingly Urquhart captained the Slytherin Quidditch team during Harry’s sixth year despite never having been previously mentioned as a player (HBP14).

Urquhart is the name of a castle located along Loch Ness in Scotland.

Verity
A young witch with short blonde hair who worked as a shop assistant at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley during the summer before Harry's sixth year (HBP6).

Wagstaff, "Honest Willy"
Street peddler who was accused by the Ministry of selling defective wands and loose-bottomed cauldrons in Diagon Alley. The wands caused burns to a number of people (DP).

Wagtail, Myron
(b. 1970)
Lead singer of popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw92).

Warrington, (C. ?)
(b. circa 1977)
Slytherin 1988 - 1996 Quidditch team Chaser, Inquisitorial Squad.
Described by Dean Thomas as "that big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth" (GF16). Probably the same as the C. Warrington who checked Quidditch Through the Ages out of the library (13 November) (QA). While a member of the Inquisitorial Squad (and coincidentally just before a big match with Gryffindor), Warrington suffered an attack that left him with a horrible skin ailment which made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes (OP30).

Percy Ignatius Weasley
Birthdate: August 22, 1976 (JKR).
Ancestry: Pure-blood.
Mother: Molly (Prewett) Weasley.
Father: Arthur Weasley.
Maternal grandparents: Molly and Sirius are "cousins by marriage," (OP6) so Molly's parents are probably related in some way to the Prewetts listed on the Black Family Tree (see BFT and my notes).
Paternal grandparents: Septimus and Cedrella (Black) Weasley (see ).

Whitby, Kevin
(b. circa 1983)
Hufflepuff 1994 - 2001.

The last new Hogwarts student to be sorted during Harry’s fourth year (GF12).

Whitby is the seacoast town on the border of the North York Moors that Bram Stoker visited while writing Dracula, and in which part of the story is set.

Wiggleswade, Dempster
Writer for the Daily Prophet's problem page (DP).

Wigworthy, Wilhelm
Author of Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles (FB).

Will (No Last Name)
Wizard who stole a load of toads from Warty Harris, then was tricked when Mundungus Fletcher stole the toads from Will and sold them back to him (OP5).

Williamson
Auror, wearing scarlet robes and with long hair in a ponytail. Williamson accompanied Fudge when the Minister arrived at the Ministry of Magic after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries (OP36). He was probably the scarlet-robed, ponytailed Auror seen in Auror headquarters with his feet up, dictating a report to his quill (OP7).

Willis, Heliotrope
Witch; leader of the Troll Rights Movement. Some would say she’s taken one too many knocks to the head from mis-aimed troll clubs (DP).

"heliotrope" - an old name for several kinds of flower that turn towards the sun, such as sunflowers and marigolds; now used to refer to plants that are members of the borage family (NSOED). Heliotrope is also the surname of one of the characters of The Little White Horse, JKR's favorite book as a child.

Wimple, Gilbert
Ministry wizard, Committee on Experimental Charms. Wimple had horns at the World Cup in 1994, and might still (GF7).

Wintringham, Herman
(b. 1974)
Plays lute with the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters (fw96).

Worple, Eldred
Member of the "Slug Club."
Author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires and a guest at Slughorn's Christmas party with his friend Sanguini. Described as a "a small, stout, bespectacled man." (HBP15).

Zabini, Blaise
(b. circa 1980)
Slytherin 1991-1998 (PS7).
Described as a "tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes." Blaise shares Draco's prejudice against Muggle-born witches and wizards; Ginny considers Blaise a "poser." (HBP7).

Zeller, Rose
(b. circa 1984)
Hufflepuff 1995 - 2002 (OP11).

(No First Name) Zonko
Founder(?) of Zonko's Joke Shop. Possibly a real person, possibly a made-up name or nickname. Zonko's went out of business in 1996 (HBP12).

ICON THE WORLD, YO!

2008-03-05T01:51:15Z

icontheworld - icontheworld - icontheworld
icontheworld - icontheworld - icontheworld
icontheworld - icontheworld - icontheworld
icontheworld - icontheworld - icontheworld

FRAKKINGCYLON ICONS OPENING!

2008-01-13T06:57:37Z

YAY!

I FINALLY got my icon journal up and running! You can friend it here!

Friends Only!

2008-01-03T20:56:22Z

racetrack is the personal CDJ of Dawn who maintains frakkingcylon.
If you're looking for my icons, please friend the community.
If you'd like to friends, feel free to do so, but all I ask
is that you possibly let me know how we might know one another?
It would help.

Characters - Young & Old

2008-01-03T20:56:21Z

ADELAIDE BANGES shebanges at find_the_mod	NORA ALDERTON notaharpie at find_the_mod
BENJY FENWICK withacause at find_the_mod	CHARITY BURBAGE mugglemethis at find_the_mod
NARCISSA MALFOY vainglorious at find_the_mod	MORGAN MACDOUGAL bangupjob at find_the_mod

Thank you so much to kikithepirate for 'hosting' the 2007 RPG Awards, and thank you to everyone who voted for me!

Fic: Lavender & Someone in the afterlife

2008-01-03T20:54:17Z

Characters: Lavender Brown & ...?
Summary: Lavender isn't sure who would be waiting for her.
Rating: PG. Maybe. Just to be safe.

By the end, she'd watched nearly everyone she knew die. Sometimes, it was only dream death, in her head. It had finally been too much for her, and Susan Bones had been the lucky recipient of Lavender's cowardice. The blast that took her life had altered the outcome very little, and it was possible that she'd only spared Susan for a few moments, but it was enough for Lavender.

There hadn't been any pain, for which she had been thankful for. Lavender could barely stand a too-hard tug on her hairbrush, let alone anything more permanent. But the truth was that she had no idea who, if anyone, would have been waiting for her in the afterlife.

The station was empty. There wasn't even a train yet, or perhaps one had just departed. She had Seen Simon's death only a short time before her own. She thought it might be possible that there was only one train running, but with the state of things, there really ought to be several. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Oliver, Simon, Padma, Parvati... The list was too enormous, daunting to even ponder.

As she stood waiting, Lavender closed her eyes. Faint footsteps preceded a breeze that fluttered through the station, and with it came the scent of freshly cut grass and wood -- specifically broom wood. She remembered flying lessons at Hogwarts, every single time she had to borrow a broom, painting her face for Gryffindor Quidditch matches, and --

"Oliver!"

She spun around, only for him to catch her in his arms immediately. Lavender tried not to laugh, but the happiness was too great, and the knowledge that Oliver had been waiting for her when he could have waited for anyone else in the world set her free. There was no pain anymore, and even when she thought of her previous life, she couldn't feel any remorse or guilt or worry for anything that happened. A giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she thought she could fly.

His arms should have been crushing her, but the tighter her held her, the happier -- elated even -- she felt.

"I didn't mean to be late," he beseeched her quietly, kissing the side of her face over and over again. "You weren't scheduled to be here for a while."

"You couldn't have known," Lavender whispered in return, resting her forehead against his. She could taste salt on her lips, and realised she must be crying. Oliver cupped her face with his large hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears.

"But you did, didn't you?"

Oliver had never quite believed in her Sight, but he'd always been fairly silent on it, choosing to be there for her during the episodes, even when she awoke from the blood bath of a nightmare that prefaced You-Know-Who's return. "...yes."

"Lavender, I'm sorry..." he pleaded, catching her gaze and not letting go. "I'm sorry I didn't believe--"

"Don't be daft," she laughed. "I didn't even believe me. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do. I should have told you that I loved you. I should have told you every day."

Lavender took his hands, tilting her face to him and kissed him softly. "We have all of eternity to make up for it now."

Fic: Fleur and Bill Weasley (Post-Apocalyptic)

2008-01-03T20:54:16Z

Characters: Fleur, Bill, Gabrielle -- mentions of all the Weasleys as well as other Order members
Summary: Bill and Fleur are the last of the Weasleys left, but not for very long.
Rating: R -- there's just some really terrible bad images

At the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, wizards got a taste of a Veela's power. They could strike a man dumb just by entering a room, and if angrily provoked, they had a tendency to throw fire at their victims. All in all, it was a nifty power to have. Fleur Weasley had vague recollections of being lusted after. She could dimly remember someone slapping a table and repeating what she'd said only seconds prior. Boys blushed and stammered, girls sneered with jealousy.

All of the Weasleys had gone into hiding when little Sophie Weasley was torn apart, save Hestia. Hestia couldn't bare the pain, and Charlie had been unable to stop her. The witch had run head-first into Death Eater territory -- what wasn't Death Eater territory these days? -- and the end hadn't come easy. Charlie's denial grew less and less and his anger rose with each body part he received in the post. At first, it was easy to pretend the long fingers weren't his wife's, but by the time her torso arrived, he had to pretend that the breasts didn't belong to his wife. When her head showed up, neatly wrapped with a perfect expression of pain etched on her plain face, Charlie had nothing left to lose.

They found Arthur some time after Charlie's last stand, a rampage that took out five Death Eaters (and himself) and gave some hope to the stragglers left behind.

But then Ron and Harry and Hermione disappeared one night. Everyone hoped they'd gone on whatever search they'd managed last time, and once and for all You Know Who would be vanquished. All hope crumbled when three bodies were displayed with permanent embalming charms in front of the Ministry of Magic.

Then Molly and Ginny vanished.

The twins.

Percy and Penelope.

Even the Weasley's Muggle tax barrister cousin.

Soon, it was just Gabrielle, Bill, Fleur, and their unborn daughter. They crossed the channel by Muggle boat as a way to escape the Voldemort-controlled Ministry, but Bill wasn't so certain that they hadn't been followed somehow. They hadn't used any magic in months so there could be no Trace. But his fears were confirmed when Gabrielle disappeared on the ferry to France. Fleur had been angry, then, and several automobiles on board the ferry had very mysteriously caught fire. She had worked so hard to keep her sister safe during the second war -- for what? Nothing. She had no way to find her, and even less hope of surviving but anger still burned into the Veela, and Bill was satisfied. If she could still get angry, Bill thought, they still had a chance, and Fleur and the baby were all he had left.

Being a Weasley meant that they were hunted like dog, and it wasn't long before they were both bound, gagged, and returned to England. Fleur had put up a fight, burning several of the Death Eaters before they bested her, and Bill thought they had a real chance so long as she could still get angry. They were separated, of course, and he knew that they would torture him, he just hadn't counted on the method of torture.

The voice belonging to the hooded figure wasn't familiar at all, and the Death Eaters dragged Fleur into the room. They'd raped her and beat her, that much Bill could see, and his eyes flashed dangerously. He and Charlie were more alike than the Death Eaters knew. It wasn't just Gryffindor bravery that caused him to scream. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER! YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HER, I SWEAR TO GOD--"

"Silence!"

The spell disarmed his tongue, and his binds were drawn tighter. Fleur, now hung by some unseen hook, was suspended directly in front of him. His own binds clamped onto Bill's long hair, jerking his head up to look at her still-beautiful, though badly beaten face. She shook her head almost imperceptibly when he tried to struggle again.

"Half-breeds and blood traitors breeding. How dare you taint Wizarding blood!"

Bill felt the icy fingers of fear down his spine. There was a terrible ripping sound followed by a short, sharp scream that Bill didn't recognise though he saw Fleur's mouth open and her face twist into a pained grimace. Her delicate pale features turned sickly, almost green. He felt hot tears pouring down his face, and he wanted to reach out for the child now lying face down on the ground, not moving or breathing. The same could be said for both Bill and Fleur.

Fight, Fleur. Get angry. Come on, baby. Don't give up yet. We can still get away.

But he knew the fire had gone out of her; he could see it in her cold eyes. He was just thankful she wouldn't have to suffer much longer.

Fic: Green

2008-01-03T20:54:15Z

Title: Green
Characters: Harry Potter.
Summary: The original post-apocalyptic piece I wrote that inspired my Padma post that inspired Kate's Seamus post that -- you get the idea. *snickersnort!* Anyway. Harry's been stripped of his magic, and is awaiting...
Rating: PG13 for character death

Of course, it was to be a public execution.

The Walk had been seventeen years in the making, and without his magic, there was no hope to walk away from this one.

He knew it. And despite this, his head was held high. It was, after all, his destiny.

Sometimes Harry remembered what it was like to use magic, the feel of wood in his hands. How his hand used to twitch when he'd utter a spell. All the phrases in Latin that he never bothered to translate, but somehow knew what they meant. He remembered the smell of potions. How most of his best potions still turned to soup. How much he hated the now-dead wizard who taught the class. He remembered half-moon glasses, bushy hair, freckles. He remembered orange eyes, bangled bracelets, white-blonde hair. He remembered buggy eyes and the way they made him feel. He remembered photographs that moved, and marble basins that swirled with iridescent wind. He remembered giant snakes and memories that lived.

His life would be remembered as the wound that wouldn't heal, wouldn't scab. His death would cauterise the wizarding world, they said. Hushed reporters from the Daily Prophet to The Quibbler were waiting in every corner; Quick Quills hovered in the air. The Boy Who Would Die would be studied.

He still had nightmares, but the scar he wore was nothing more than another reminder of a life reprobate. No family, all dead. No friends, all gone. He had outlived them all. It might have been the only thing he hadn't been prepared for, and he merely waited, slack and devoid, for the death sentence. This ersatz life was his waking nightmare.

The peregrination from cell to death only took one hour through the streets of London. He survived the catcalls and opprobrium as he always had, with his jaw set and a disdainful eye. Their brickbats rebounded off him, and the only time it stung was when the surviving members of his Army turned away from him. They looked hungry and lost, broken and tangled, and Harry couldn't stand the look of disappointment on their faces. He was a saviour who could no longer save. And maybe, he thought, he was never intended to save them.

The acid green quills fluttered madly upon seeing him. Only the most derelict dared to call to Harry, begging for his help. Their voices were immediately silenced in a rush of green coruscation, more bodies left in Harry's wake. He was not surprised to find the loss only hastened his steps to his fate. His bleak eyes memorised their faces, and he might be the only one to mourn them.

Like so many years ago, Harry refused to bow to Voldemort or the line of Death Eaters waiting in the centre of the square. He refused to cower and hide behind pretty gravestones. He refused to answer questions that made no difference in the end. His retorts were met with the familiar mirthless laugh that used to haunt his nightmares.

Then he was finally on his way to join Hermione and Ron, and there was no where else he'd rather be.

Fic: Post Apocalyptic Lavender Brown

2008-01-03T20:54:15Z

Characters: Lavender Brown, Elliott Chambers, Susan Bones (mentions of Oliver Wood, Simon Capper, Parvati Patil, as well as a whole bunch of name-dropping! YAY!)
Summary: After Seeing death one too many times, Lavender can't take it anymore.
Rating: PG13

Lavender Brown had long since outgrown any urge to stomp around, shouting at the top of her lungs that it just wasn't bloody fair. How had You-Know-Who bested Harry Potter? How had You-Know-Who even come back for the third time! It didn't really matter; all that Lavender knew was that they were gone. Most of her friends was gone.

Parvati had been one of the first, slipping away as silently as a breeze. She was one of the lucky ones. Padma followed in a hail of green light in her revenge. All of the forerunners to the battle were gone, and no one dared to openly mourn them -- there just wasn't time with all the ambushes -- but oh, late at night, huddled in a battered building, what was left of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix scattered into groups so that the Death Eaters couldn't find them, they found they still needed their comfort.

Lavender looked up at the sky needlessly. She knew the moon was full and fat, hanging high in the sky, and she let a daydream of Simon Capper wash over her. It was too late for him, even if he was still alive. But in her dreams, his eyes were still alive and laughing, his smile was bright, and he sang into a hairbrush unabashedly to some song about cauldrons that Lavender once knew all the lyrics to.

"Simon!" she called out with a smile, batting at his hands as he shoved the make-shift microphone under her nose. "Quit fucking around! We're in the middle of a war!"

Simon shook his head mysteriously, and the glow of the moon evaded her dreams mercilessly. Simon changed, right then and there in front of her into a snarling black wolf, and there was no cage to hold him. Except he didn't lunge, didn't attack, just stared at her and she could swear she saw the wolf crying before it turned and ran off into the darkness.

Lavender's feet decided to follow, and before she knew it, she was just outside the safety of the shattered building. Off in the distance, she heard howling and saw a sudden blast of light and fire, and her heart felt as though it had been literally ripped from her chest. She let out a wail that might possibly match Ginny Weasley's in anguish at the triple deaths of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Simon Capper was dead; she was certain of it.

There was a hand on her shoulder, and for one instant, she let herself believe that it was Oliver Wood's. She'd turn around to find him tucked away in the same hovel by happy coincidence -- just like three weeks ago. He pulled her to him roughly, holding onto her as tight as he could. They spent the next few hours trying to find some hope in each other. Oliver swore he'd never let her go as long as he lived.

And he didn't, even though "as long as he lived" was only four hours.

"No, no, no," she sobbed, and her fingernails dug deep into Elliot Chamber's wrists. He didn't flinch, not even when Lavender began to fight him, pounding her fists against his chest. She sank to her knees, taking Elliot with her.

"We have to get inside," he warned her, cutting across her sorrow and yanking her across the threshold. "They'll find us."

"I don't... I don't care. I don't want to See them all dying. Elliot, please make it stop!" Her shouting was beginning to draw the attention of the others. Whispered threats bounced right off Lavender. "I just want to die. I just want to die."

Lavender wasn't supposed to last this long; she should have been one of the first. One by one, everyone she'd ever cared about was stripped from her. To silence her, Elliot kissed her. He might have laughed, and she might have smacked him once upon a time, but it did the trick now. But she'd Seen it coming, and she welcomed it. It meant the end was near, and that was a relief.

One desperate, clingy encounter later, Elliot passed out. Lavender sat up with a start, knowing what she must do. Down the stairs and through the door, she found Susan Bones standing watch. She was always standing watch, and, smoothing a hand on Susan's tired cheeks, Lavender informed her that she would keep watch.

"Are you sure?" Susan relished the physical contact, even if it wasn't of the male persuasion. At this point, anything was better than nothing.

"Yes, definitely."

"Well, if you're not well enough..."

"You've been such a soldier, Susan. I don't know how you do it." It was a lie, but it was necessary. "I swear, I'm fine now."

Reluctantly, Susan switched places with the other witch.

With a sad smile, Lavender said, "I'll see you soon, Susan."

A second later, a high pitched whirring sound pierced their ears. It drew closer and closer until there was an explosion. Susan was catapulted against what was left of the door jamb, her back feeling near broken. She glanced up to the spot she had been to make sure that Lavender was all right, but there was only a hole in the wall.

Fic: Untitled

2008-01-03T20:54:14Z

Title: Untitled
Characters: Merope Gaunt
Summary: I wrote this for a gen fic-a-thon. It was this or something about Molly Weasley, and I was draaaawn to Merope because she is SUCH a tragic figure.
Rating: PG

UNTITLED

O N E
She has never been beautiful, but she has always known that. She knows that the only thing she truly has to offer is undying love and a family heirloom, a heritage. Her awareness is the reason she has taken to carrying the love potion in her pocket at all times. Sometimes, when she's only just given Tom the potion, he looks at her in a way that breaks her heart. She knows that he would never have looked at her twice without the potion, but when he takes her in his arms, Merope forgets all about that.

The magic makes it real, and she can pretend. She is good at pretending, as she has been hiding for many years -- from her father, from her brother, from her peers, from the rest of Little Hangleton. Tom just gives her something to look forward to at the end of the day, and she works so hard to make him happy so that one day, when she stops giving him the potion, he might pity her for what she’s done to him. She’d always been told that pity was worse than no emotion at all, but Merope had never disagreed so much in her life.

Every day, she resolves to wean him from the potion, and every day, she finds a million more things about him that she loves so dearly that she can’t bring herself to do it. She’s hopelessly addicted to the love she sees in his eyes.

T W O

If she’s carrying his child, he can’t turn her away. He is too honourable, too noble to do such a thing. She is certain of it. She has watched him since he was young, and he could not have been faking it all this time.

Merope has obviously been planning this for a while.

It has been two months since her time, and Tom has slowly been taking less and less potion. Tonight marks twenty-four hours since his last dosing, and he has been resting in a sort of haze. When he wakes, she knows that she will have to explain. She has practiced over and over again, but never in front of a mirror. This one thing has taken her more courage than she’s ever had.

T H R E E

She lies to herself often. She had been slipping him potions ever since her brother and father were sent to Azkaban, and, while she tried to live as a Muggle, she hadn’t truly succeeded. Behind his back, she used Heating Charms to warm his tea perfectly. She used dragon dung for fertilizer to make certain the plants grew just so. She mixed strange concoctions to counter his headaches and fatigue, tempered to keep the unnatural taste at bay and then slipped into his evening tea.

It was the magic, the heritage that drove Tom away. It was betrayal by potion, by pretending to be something she is not, that really drove him away. He never saw the real her, right? But maybe… Maybe it was really because she wasn’t living completely as a Muggle?

But she can’t be a witch without him, knowing what she’s done. She knows that one way or another, she is doomed, and maybe that’s what she’d been praying for all along.

F O U R

The streets of London are no place for a girl in 1926. It’s no place for a great deal of people, it would seem, with the strikes all across the London. Things and people that Merope had never heard of are on strike, and there are many violent clashes. The streets are littered with victims of all sorts.

The street vendors are cautious these days. Merope watches the prettier of the desolate, most of whom are smiled at as they pass. Never mind the fact that most of them have quicker hands than a magician; they’ve already stolen an apple or bread without the caretaker even noticing.

With her magic fizzling, Merope can barely keep herself standing, let alone attempt to procure anything. It's not that she's too noble to try; it's her contempt for the beautiful that keeps her from doing so. In her early days of living on the streets, a down-on-her-luck vaudevillian actress by the name of Victoria minded Merope because she felt sorry for her. But that soon came to an end when she caught Merope stealing from her. It was her beauty that Merope despised and she didn't feel any remorse about taking from her.

However, Merope is not nearly as lucky with the street vendors. They narrow their eyes at the ugly girl, watching her every movement, but she never steals from them. Instead, now, she takes handouts from people who pity the girl with the ever-growing bulge. She overhears the more financially generous talking as they walk away.

‘Must have been dark when she was knocked up. It’s no wonder she’s living on the streets.’

Don’t listen to them. I may be ugly, but your father… He has such good genes, Tom, Merope tells the child in her womb. She’s already decided on a name, and he will be more brilliant than she could ever have dreamed. No child of Tom Riddle’s could be anything less than exceptional.

Her magic disappears quickly. She can still see the Leaky Cauldron. She can still get into Diagon Alley, and when she does, people know who she is. There are former Hogwarts students there who recognize her, professors who smile and nod without looking her in the eye.

It has been months since Tom left her, and she cannot go to Little Hangleton, not with Tom and Morfin there. If her brother knew what state she was in, he’d likely go to Riddle Manor and destroy every single last one of them, and Merope cannot stand the thought. If anything happened to Tom, she might go mad.

Borgin and Burkes is dodgy, at best, but that shoppe is the only place she would consider selling to. The necklace has been with her for so long, and she has never once doubted its authenticity. However, Merope despises her Wizarding heritage. Every time she sees it around her neck, it reminds her of what she is, and what she can never be. She is not clueless, however, when he only offers her 10 galleons for the family heirloom. Merope chalks it up to just another disappointment in a long line of disappointments.

F I V E

Merope has never been beautiful, but she has created beauty. She knows that the baby will grow up to be handsome, talented, and clever. All things that she had never been. He has his father’s perfect skin and intense eyes, and if the gods were ever tempted to be kind to Merope Gaunt, her son would have a long and happy life, making his mark in the world.

Mrs Cole, the skinny woman who invited her in off the steps of the orphanage, is hovering over her. By her anxious expression, Merope knows that she is not much longer for this world. Her entire life has led to this moment, her precious son. Her time is nearly up, and, at last, she is proud of something that she has done. There is nothing more that Merope has to contribute.

Perhaps Merope has known ever since the day she decided to stop giving Tom the potion that it would all culminate in this moment. But everything would be all right, she decided, Tom Marvolo Riddle would change the face of the Wizarding World.

Fic: Switch

2008-01-03T20:54:14Z

Title: Switch
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott, various other Slytherins
Summary: Blame Whit. This is another older fic, with the prompt: What if your character had been in another House? At the time, all the Slytherins were suffering due to their involvement in the Red Death group, and this was Padma involved.
Rating:

Padma Patil was not impressed.

As interruptions went, there were worse ways to be frozen than standing triumphantly over a bleeding, silently screaming Ernie Macmillan.

"Pathetic waste of a pureblood!" she'd spat just seconds before Dumbledore rendered her Cruciatus Curse null. Macmillan brandished his wand like an amateur, like a Muggle magician performing a show, and because of it, he'd wasted precious seconds. Seconds that Padma exploited. She watched his body crumple, limbs contract, muscles twitch with only mild fascination.

His screams were only minutely satisfactory. Not one member of the Red Death group noticed her victory; most of them were cowering to Potter's band of miscreants. Theodore Nott truckled beneath a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Salazar's sake!), Draco Malfoy turned in the air at Potter's command (no big surprise there; Malfoy was less than capable on his best days), Pansy Parkinson hid under a table (did she ever really do anything other than play dress up?).

The Dark Lord was using them in the least productive manner. Surely, the attacks would have been best traced only to murmured voices and shadows. Letting Dumbledore and Potter know exactly who they were seemed, well, brainless, and brainless was not something Padma Patil did well.

If there was one thing that Padma knew, it was how to disentangle herself from scandal. However, this would take artifice. Finesse was something that only Theodore Nott (despite his myriad other weaknesses) could handle. And that meant convincing him. Convincing him meant turning him away from Draco Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins.

When Padma was convinced of her ratiocination, there was no deterring her. Your logic would turn quickly in the face of her arguments. One look at the sureness on her face had changed many a Slytherin's mind.

Of course, Theodore Nott would prove difficult; he always did.

"Draco wouldn't know a thestral's arse from his own," she told him, a grand smirk on her lips. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than logic, it was ripping Malfoy to shreds. "His leadership is counter-productive. He's never had to work very hard at his hypocrisy, and I'm afraid it's time for new direction."

Theodore quirked a lazy brow at her. He relaxed, stretching his legs, fingers lightly tapping the arms of his chair. "Do go on, dear Padma. I'm rather interested in this new management."

"Subterfuge should only be used when the truth cannot be exploited, and I believe - " Two words never meant so much as 'I believe' coming from Padma's lips " - the truth is more dangerous to Potter than any distortion Draco could manage. I think we should continue with the Dark Lord's training, little by little. This time, we contain it, only vaguely keeping it secret. The two of us could have Slytherin house whipped into shape in no time."

"But how is the question, Padma. You're not telling me anything I haven't already thought myself."

Blunt as usual, Theodore, Padma thought. The smirk curled into her cheek, making the smallest dimple noticeable.

"We discredit Draco, use his weaknesses. He can't deny them, considering I, as well as others, have much proof of his faults. Potter wouldn't dream of assisting him. If Draco turns on us, Potter would think it was a plot. Draco will have no where to go, but back into OUR fold."

"I see several flaws in your plan, Padma. The first is quite obvious: Draco has no credit. Among the Slytherins, sure, his name means something. His father is one of the Dark Lord's Right-Hand me-"

Padma silenced him, a single finger pressed against his lips. As she spoke, her gaze shifted from her finger to his lips, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, that one strand of hair that had fallen in his eye. "Shhh. His father is not the Dark Lord's only most trusted Death Eater."

She watched as his face flushed, his hand reaching up to shove hers away. Her smirk turned angelic, canine digging into her bottom lip. "Oh, dear. I've embarrassed you, haven't I?"

He merely smiled that bland smile of his, watching her carefully, his colouring returning. She heaved a sigh, looking positively stricken. "I've forgotten that you don't approve of such handling."

"You're playing in the dirt, Padma. Have you forgotten how compulsive I am?" He was teasing her; that was always a good sign.

"Oh, I assure you that my hands will remain quite clean. And yours, too."

This got his attention. Padma halfway suspected that Theodore didn't want his hands soiled, and not for sanitary reasons. Most of the time, his nose was buried in a book. While she couldn't find fault in that, something always nagged at her. Something almost... Muggle at times. If she could just get proof, Theodore would be wrapped around her finger.

"Unfortunately for poor Draco Malfoy, we'll need chicanery. Most of the students are already aware of the level of imbecile he is, so we have no choice but to inject a bit of old-fashioned lies into it. Oh, this will take some time; after all, well-planned deceit isn't something you can expect to yield overnight."

Theodore looked skeptical, unwilling to damage the thin thread of alliance between Malfoy and Nott. After all, the children of criminals most often banded together in similar times.

"I realize that you have some sort of bond with Draco, but he's out-survived his uses. He's pushed Slytherin House to a precipice, and if someone capable does not take control, we will fail." She paused only for a moment, dropping all sweetness and smiles. "Failure is not an option."

Now that she had his attention (and she was quite sure by the intensity in his eyes), Padma's feminine wiles would have to take control. She loathed this part only a little, and only when Theodore was the one who resisted. She leaned forward, propping her head up with the heel of her hand. Her voice seemed to drop a register, breathy and whispered. "You're not the only one, Theodore, who thinks the Dark Lord acted impulsively. I must confess I thought it too soon... too naked."

At the words, his thin fingers crushed the bones in her wrists, and she was pulled to her feet.

Through a corridor. Up and down stairs. Spiraling and double backing. The Slytherin dorm rooms could only be reached through this maze, and Padma was delighted when he turns right. This led to the boys' dormitories, as she was well aware of. Blaise Zabini could be persuaded quite easily.

The room was cold, almost sterile, save Crabbe and Goyle's dominions. When he dropped her hand suddenly, she was not at all surprised. She'd anticipated his insistence on privacy. More than anticipated, she counted on it. Her skin was flush with knowledge: he'd let a weakness slip.

"How shall we consummate this plan?" He didn't blush as he spoke, and her eyes narrowed. She has never heard him speak this way, and it's only a little disconcerting. To her credit, Padma didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, she strode across the room toward him, moving her hips in wide arcs. It's a calculated move, and she is certain he's aware of it.

"Interesting choice of words, darling Theodore." Padma's voice was as heavy with innuendo as her eyelids as she stepped up to him. Hands slid up his chest, lips hovered near his.

And just as suddenly, her hands were gone. His face only changed for the smallest of split seconds, and then he was unreadable once more.

"I've always been verbose, and you've always been more direct than you are right now. What are you suggesting, Padma?" His voice had dropped call pretense, and he was eyeing her ferally.

Only mildly put off, Padma straightened, a determined look upon her face. She moved to Theodore's bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on her elbows. "I'm suggesting our own alliance, one that will result in more than just alleviating Draco Malfoy from his prestigious position. I'm suggesting that you and I learn to lean on each other, quite literally at times. You and I are indisputably the most intelligent in Slytherin House - and before you say anything, I'm aware we're not highly considered for our intelligence - not to mention most of this school. We're cunning because we use it against others, and I think it's high time that we stop using it against each other."

When she was finished, she stared at him, unblinking. Some little voice in the back of her head nagged her, told her that he'd never go for it, but she shoved that down quickly. There'd be time to think about that later.

He held his silence for a full ten minutes, and Padma knew he was letting her stew, letting it writhe inside her until she pushed him. But she merely watched him, expressionless. It would have been smart given circumstances, but Padma Patil was a very patient witch, and so her gaze never broke from his face.

"I accept," Theodore replied, but not without some hesitation. Padma could see the wheels in his head turning round. Silly things, really, but she respected him for it.

She held out her hand, waiting as he was forced to cross the room to her. When that delicate hand wrapped around hers, she gave it a yank, pulling him down to her, hot breath on his lips, hair tickling her forehead. "You remember the old adage, don't you? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I think we're about to get as close as enemies can get."

Fic: More

2008-01-03T20:54:13Z

Title: More
Characters: Lavender Brown, Padma Patil
Summary: andreamb asked for this a while ago, and I think there's just not enough femmeslash in this world. For real.
Rating: PG13

"...Roger Davies is downstairs, Padma."

Momentarily distracted, Padma glanced up from her book, The Merlin Code. Blinking rather languidly, she stretched on her bed, propping her elbow up. Tugging her long braid over her shoulder, she finally said, "…so?"

"Your mum and dad were talking about his… prospects. How old fashioned can they get?" Lavender asked, rolling her eyes and throwing herself down on the bed in front of Padma. Luckily, she had been expecting this and pulled her book out from under the Gryffindor in the nick of time.

"Is that why you went trouncing down the stairs like a herd of hippogriffs trampling a million Malfoys?" came Padma's brusque reply.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Well, they're Indian, Lavender. After all these years, you should know how old fashioned they can be. Don't you remember the time they tied Parvati's legs to the -"

"No, the other question; the unspoken one." Lavender's legs were crossed at the ankles, swinging from side to side as the girl splayed out on her stomach on Padma's bed.

"I'm sorry; I don't speak Witch Weekly. You'll have to be more specific." The Ravenclaw knew where this was going. She'd known the moment Lavender opened her pretty mouth and uttered the words: Roger Davies. Roger was the last person Padma wanted to explain about.

"It sounded like he was asking your parents for your hand in marriage or something. You're not telling us something without… telling us something, are you? You're not marrying Roger Davies, are you?" There were stars in Lavender's eyes, the far away, day-dreaming look on her face as she imagined Padma's wedding, romantic holidays, and, of course, one of Roger's good looking cousin's "or Merlin! Brother!) sweeping Lavender off her feet.

Quickly squashing those dreams, Padma dismissed it, "Calm down. He's only just asked me out on one date, that's all."

In a flail of arms and legs, Lavender was on her knees in front of Padma, who had scooted so far back on her bed that she was squished between Lavender and the head board. She pressed her feet against the other girl's knees to keep her at a distance. There was no telling what could happen if Lavender got riled up.

"MERLIN, PADMA PREMALA PATIL! YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT ROGER DAVIES ASKED YOU OUT! ROGER DAVIES! THIS IS BRILLIANT! "

Padma winced, slapping her hands to her ears. "This is why I didn't tell you," she replied loudly, blinking and narrowing her eyes. Lavender looked momentarily hurt, and Padma prayed the girl wouldn't cry. She always cried so easily. "I knew you'd get like this!"

Then, "You're going to snog Roger Davies, you know," Lavender chimed in smugly, grinning from ear to ear. She pulled herself next to Padma at the head of her bed and slid her arm around her waist. "Do you even know how to snog? Properly, and not from books, I mean."

"Of course, I do," Padma snapped, folding her arms across her chest like a petulant child. She frowned darkly, jaw twitching slightly. Padma could hear Lavender rolling her eyes, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Lavender was watching her intently. Shifting nervously, she barked, "What are you looking at? Stop looking at me like that!"

Lavender only grinned, leaning against Padma's side, looking up flirtatiously and batting her eyelashes. Grimacing, the darker girl pushed away from the blonde, scooting along the bed to the foot.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Come on," Lavender replied, her pointer now daintily sliding into the corner of her mouth. Padma could see her tongue roll lazily around the tip, and her mind raced at what Lavender exactly wanted her to come on. "It's not that bad. Vati and I have practiced."

Padma's eyes bulged, her jaw going slack. Then a moue of disgust slammed into her face. She pulled her knees to her chest. A deadpan voice answered. "Are you mad?"

Lavender laughed them, crawling to the other side of the bed. Padma leaned back, trying to put as much distance between her and Lavender. Her face was hovering too close to Padma's.

"Just close your eyes, and pretend I'm Roger."

"You smell like a flower garden; Roger does not smell like a flower garden."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, plug your nose then!"

"This is utterly ridiculous! I'm not going to kiss you, let alone snog you!" Padma rolled her eyes, not realizing that Lavender would take that momentarily lapse of eye contact to close the distance between them.

And suddenly, Padma could taste strawberries. She stared up at the ceiling, watching the little swirls of paint, even though her lips puckered against Lavender's slightly. She did not pull away either.

Then her eyes closed, and Lavender's lips were so soft and warm. Images of Parvati and Lavender doing this in Parvati's bedroom fluttered into Padma's mind, and she shook her head, breaking the peck.

"That wasn't so bad, Padma." Lavender was grinning incorrigibly. Her eyes were squinty, and her face looked rather blurry this close up. "Again."

With some hesitancy, Padma leaned down, pressing her lips firmly against Lavender's, then it was Lavender's turn to shake her head. "Like this, Padma darling."

The blonde pulled back just enough so Padma could watch. Her eyelids practically glided closed, her pink lips puckering and parting slightly.

"See? Now it's your turn."

Padma gave her a skeptical look. There was no way she could pull that off. She didn't even have pink lips or lip gloss or… She shut her eyes, inclining her chin only the slightest bit upward. It was easy for her mouth to open, given the rather nervous way her lips were trembling. When she swallowed, she licked her lips. Lavender giggled.

"Very good, Padma. You're a fast learner! Do it again," she instructed. Padma really hoped she got a gold star later. Quite literally.

Doing as she was told, Padma felt much more relaxed, not having to have any contact with Lavender's mouth. But still... something wasn't right. Not in her gut anyway. Her throat had an odd bulge. Her lips parted again, eyebrows raising only the slightest tick.

She could hear Lavender shifting on the bed, drawing nearer. It was slow, and it sent a shot of impatient through her spine. If she was going to teach Padma how to do this, she'd better not make her wait. Her lip curled slightly in an impetuous smirk.

Lavender's mouth was open this time, and it was wetter than before. The girl massaged her lips against Padma's, alternating between parting her lips and compressing them with Padma's.

And she wasn't stopping.

Lavender continued. Quickening the pace. Slowing them down. Her long fingernails trailed along Padma's cheek bones down to her throat, which made Padma shiver, shoulders shrugged from side to side.

"Now," Lavender breathed into Padma's open mouth. Opening her eyes, Padma leaned her forehead against the other girl's quite out of breath. She only nodded, waiting for Lavender's further instruction. No wonder I've caught all those students in the Astronomy Tower… "This will seem weird after first, darling. Don't worry, it's always weird the first time you snog a new person. You'll get used to it."

If she hadn't been anxious before, Padma was definitely nervous now. She fidgeted with her robes, fingers twisting around the fabric. Before Padma could finish her thought, Lavender's lips were pressing against hers again, more insistent, more demanding than before.

And then there was something warm and wet on Padma's lips. It was soft, but there was something odd about the way it felt that a slow moving shudder crawled up Padma's spine. It spiraled when Padma felt her own tongue working to meet Lavender's.

Their lips continued to move, pressing and demanding. Their tongues circled, dueled, fought for control. Lavender slid her arm around Padma's waist, pulling her closer and closer until Padma could feel the girl's breasts against her own. And for some reason, Padma groaned at the friction of Lavender's hand gripping her upper thigh. Lavender made an appreciative noise and rewarded her with a thumb against Padma's nipple through her clothing. Padma was definitely starting to enjoy this, and she thought it might actually be the gold star she was hoping for.

Even if it was Lavender.

Padma's hands tentatively reached out, flexing at Lavender's waist as if she didn't know what to do with them. And she really didn't. She always assumed that it would be instinctual, and, while her instincts were telling her to hold onto Lavender's waist, she wasn't certain she should. Lavender seemed to understand and pulled her hand away from Padma's breast to lead Padma's hands to her waist.

And all the while, they were still kissing. Growing more confident, Padma moved forward, forcing Lavender to shrink in front of her a little so that Padma was now the dominant one. Lavender groaned into Padma's mouth, which sent Padma's senses reeling. Her fingers curled around Lavender's hip, pulling her closer, demanding.

Suddenly, Lavender was up and off the bed. Padma was left, eyes closed, panting. Her lips were pink and swollen. When she opened her eyes, she watched Lavender slipping out of the room. Dumbfounded and frustrated, Padma gawked.

"First rule of kissing, Padma… Always leave them wanting more." She smiled deviously and closed Padma's door.

Fic: Judas (Padma Patil/Theodore Nott)

2008-01-03T20:54:12Z

Title: Judas
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott
Word Count 1031
Author's Note: alsoknownas gave me a plot bunny. Actually, she gave me quite a few, and I finished two of them. This one is the more WTF of the two. Idea: Take your character and put them in a Post Apocalyptic World. Ie., Voldemort wins. Well, in a post apocalyptic world, Harry would most likely be dead, or stripped of his powers (and GAH, the PLOT BUNNIES FOR THAT), so I took Padma and did this:

The raids were methodical and exacting. By now, Padma knew what to expect. The house in Liverpool had been foraged through so many times that she'd taken to organizing it in the most efficient manner for them. The less time the Light Detectors spent in her home, the better. They always trifled through her books.

With her legs tucked beneath her, Padma glanced over the top of the book balancing in her lap, expressionless. It was better when one didn't show them the slightest bit worried. The hooded figures did their job, and she, certainly, understood how these things worked; after all, she'd seen the paperwork. Hell, she'd filed it. That didn't stop the Light Detectors from traipsing into her home once a month.

In the beginning, there had been nervousness. There had never been anything to hide, but those invasions would last for days. Her house had been left in shambles. It was those times when she was most grateful that she was a pureblood whose magic had not been stripped away.

It also helped that sympathy was not something that Padma Patil gave anymore.

Sure, it was hard for a moment when Parvati had been dragged away from her, kicking and screaming against the Dementors until she'd slacked in their grasp, submitting to poisonous thoughts and horrified memories. One would have thought the creatures had overcome Padma as well.

But they had, in a way, for it was Padma who turned her own sister in. It was an agreement she'd made with an old friend. He'd spare her from being experimented on, if she turned in bigger fish than the witch who'd created some of the brutal curses and hexes that His Death Eaters were suffering from. One by one, Potter's allies were mysteriously taken from their Unplottable locations.

She'd become something of a war hero or a cautionary tale, depending on one's skewed version of events. Padma would just say she was just too greedy, too tired, too scared, too angry to have committed to a side. That was the one thing about Ravenclaws; wit and learning wasn't a personality trait. Not like all the rest of the Houses.

War was waste. The sooner it was over, the better, and that was her motto.

Waste was the filth in Diagon Alley these days. Filth was the broken Light forces, wading in their own stink. They could have risen above it, saved a little of their pride, but not one of them thought that turning their backside on the Light was a suitable way of life. Padma thought it was Elysium.

Once she'd fallen into lassitude, Theodore Nott had proved himself to be quite the ally.

She never read that book anymore. It was the only book in the house she might have been worried about, if she didn't have the proper paperwork for it. Theodore had made sure of that. A compendium of Shakespeare's written works had no place in a pureblood's home, but considering his kindness for it, he'd secured authorization. That coupled with his inscription (and signature) fastened her safety.

A lazy twist of her wand brought the paperwork into her hands. The Light Detectors were so predictable. Their alert sparks went off monthly. The same book, the same outcome, the same embarrassed muttering. Pardon me, Miss Patil, we didn't know you were intimate with Nott.

"I wouldn't call it intimate; I'd call it consorting."

No, Padma hadn't made sense in a long time, but it was for the best really. No one was in their right mind anymore. When ennui failed her, she always had dogma to steady her. Routines made her (non)life possible. Every day, it was the same: wake, work, sleep.

Oh, and she reread the Dark Lord's credenda. It was interesting, the manner of words He chose, and so she found herself returning to it over and over again. That was always when Theodore would appear.

Every night, it was the same, like clockwork. A loud Crack! always signaled his arrival, of course. No member of His Glitterati ever really sparkled, not when it counted anyway. They all had that strange glassy-eyed stare until the rush of green blitz seemed to make them come alive, and only then.

His face was always as vanilla as her shampoo. She wasn't fooled by his condition; it always started the same. Her soft words were contrasted by her clipped tones; his affections seemingly went undermined by the look in his eye. It was when she wrapped whispers around the Dark Lord's words that he seemed alive.

'It's only in your darkest hour, that you dream of Death. I have Overcome.'

And when Padma spoke the words, she sounded strangely dull, not at all like her former self. She stared at Theodore placidly until he dropped to his knees. Every time he'd appear, she knew another one of her former friends was dead. She also knew that Theodore had been the one dispatched to do it.

He didn't usually prostrate himself.

"Who was it this time?"

When there was no answer, Padma slowly sank to her knees. For the first time in years, Padma felt real fear. Her fingers went to his shoulder. He felt cold to the touch; he must have been up north. Up north meant…

"You didn't…"

There was still no reply, and that sinking feeling magnified. North meant Azkaban. Azkaban meant…

Parvati.

When he looked back up at her, his eyes were red. There was emotion there that hadn't been there in years. It was odd to her that he was looking at her so peculiarly. And when he put his arms around her, she felt him shuddering. Her eyes darted to the encyclopedia-sized book on the shelf.

Unsurprisingly, once the fear was gone, Padma couldn't feel anything.

She stiffened then, unlocking his embrace. She lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her again. Padma gave him a calm, calculating look. It was the same look she gave him she handed him the morning paperwork or his tea or gave him the location of another one of her former cohorts.

"Well, there's not much Light left, is there? I've done my job well."