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Hogwarts, and Chillin'
Pleasantly, yesterday I met up with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
caspiangray, and she showed me around Yokohama (or at least the area around Ishikawacho station, which includes Chinatown and some other neat stuff!) a bit, which rocked. It's so nice, as I've already said once this week, to have the chance to just spend time with other people. I don't think I ever really appreciated it as much as it deserves, but never again will I consider it so ordinary! She'll be joining me in Shinjuku on Friday, too, because I have to go pay my rent, and she's not been there in 5 years apparently. Since I think Shinjuku rocks, it'll be fun to get to go round with someone. ;)
So today, I got to cheat horribly. This entry includes two letters and the intro to the Quidditch game...all of which are based on previously existent material. Tomorrows post will be, also. I feel like I'm doing something naughty. ;)
Oh, to be young! When I awoke the next morning, I realized I had slept rather later than I had intended, and was surprised that no one had woken me. I had rather missed breakfast, but in truth this was fine with me. I had gotten a very good rest, and I felt worlds better than I had the previous night. Indeed, no longer exhausted and shocked, I managed to convince myself with remarkable ease that I had been a silly ninny, that everything was wonderful, that I’d had a very nice night, that I had beaten Katrina and that was cause for celebration, and all in all I was as happy as I had been miserable once again. Conveniently, too, I thought I incredibly silly I had been, thinking to myself that I - I couldn’t even bring the world in to my head to give it credit! – that I had such strong feelings towards Marcus. I told myself I was far to calm and rational a person for such things, but that I now had a fine tool with which to leverage my parents, and, blushing to myself, I wondered when I might get to spend another such wonderful evening with him. At the thought of tools, though, the voice that had spoken so loudly the previous night did give a spasm and start to whisper. Determined to ignore it, I went to find some food, for the Quidditch match was at noon, and if I did not eat now I would not get to eat before it.
I had not been in the hallways long when a Gryffindor boy I did not know came a, with all possible stealth, passed me a letter. In Marcus’ hand, it said my name on the outside.
“Dear Delia,” it read, “I very much enjoyed the dance we had a chance to make up for. And congratulations on officially becoming Head Girl, as I don’t believe I have said so already. I was giving some thought to some of the things you told me about in regards to your situation at home. In light of that, I thought I might ask you to stay with my family at Whitebrook, our estate, for the holidays. It can be a very busy location this time of year and I fear that not all of my relatives are the most formal of individuals, but I am certain they would be delighted to meet you, and, for that matter, to have someone else to press food upon. I don’t mean to seem improper or imply insult to your family, an I hope this offer gives no offense and is taken in the light it is meant in. Consider it, if you would, as an entirely selfish request for your company during a whimsical time of year.
“I am sorry we have not had as much time to spend together as would be preferable. Between WAP sessions, classes and prefect duties…well, I am quite certain you have some empathy for the situation. I have managed to clear out some time on Saturday afternoon, and I thought perhaps you might like to join me for a flight around grounds? The forest looks very pretty from above this time of year. I think we may be able to catch it before the leaves fall.
“It is a rather unfortunate limitation on notes that they make one seems as though they are in fact doing all of the talking. Perhaps I might be so bold as to solicit a similarly talkative response?”
And it was signed, simply, “Marcus.” And from the folds of the letter, a small charm, gold and etched with the words, “for luck” slipped out. I smiled, and placed the charm carefully in my pocket.
All thoughts of food forgotten, I turned straight around to write a reply, humming a tune that even I did not recognize at the time as one to which I had danced the previous evening.
“Dear Marcus,” I wrote quickly, for I had increasingly little time before the match, “I would love to go to your home for the holidays! I must seek my parents permission first, of course, for I’m sure they will want to be assured that there is no hint of impropriety to the situation, but I don’t expect that they will say no. Indeed, I will use every tool at my command to ensure that they say yes, for I very much want to go! If, though, it turns out that we cannot arrange for me to visit, we must find a time to meet soon before, for I have thoughts on the topic of gifts, and it would be most grieving to not be able to present a present in person.
“I certainly know what you about busy schedules, it’s a wonder to me that I find the time to allow my potions to properly brew, I spend so much time running from obligation to obligation. I wonder how we found ourselves in this potion?
A nice fly sounds delightful, the perfect way to get away from the school – and all the duties that being at the school entails – for at least a few hours. A leisurely flight would be excellent, for it will, I imagine, take our minds off things. I have never viewed the Forest from above. Is it safe?
“Never fear that you are talking too much, I truly love to hear from you. I wonder if there will be a time when we are able to rela and spend time together with out any other concerns on our minds? I look forward to such a day.”
“Affectionately, Delia.”
And, for better or for worse, I sent by owl this terribly imprudent letter without giving a thought to how very forward I had been!
I wished then to write my parents at once, but I saw clearly that I hadn’t the time, and so I grabbed my things for the Quidditch match and hurried to the pitch to get ready. Food was completely forgotten, for a sudden nervousness – a complete and utter terror, even – had settled on me so completely that food was the farthest thing from my mind. The Ball and Marcus and Galatea and all manner of things had forced my nerves aside, but now that the match was upon us, I felt them all the more, ten times, one hundred times more than I’d ever felt nerves before. You’d have thought I’d never before played a game of Quidditch, never before even sat on a broom, with how nervous I felt at the prospect of playing Keeper. And any hope of support from the others was quickly dashed, for as I joined them in the locker room, I saw on their faces that they felt as I did. Tight lipped, gray faced, set expressions, we all dressed in our robes for the match mechanically, and then lined up.
The day was overcast and ominous, and the winds were frankly treacherous, coming in unexpected bursts that pierced the locker rooms and left us shivering and afraid of how it would affect our flying. Above us, we could hear the ever-growing swell of the crowds as noon approached. There was surely no way that the assembled students alone could make so much noise, and I wondered, nauseously, just how many other people had come, and who they were.
Reginald was far enough disturbed that he peaked outside, and when he looked back towards us his face was distinctly green. “Ohhhh,” he moaned.
“What’s the matter, cousin?” asked Serminia. She looked, I thought, almost as if his pain brought her some amount of pleasure, and I dismissed that thought. Even for a Slytherin, that surely could not be the case. “Are you going to be sick?” She glanced out of the tent herself, and when she looked back the haughty expression on her face had been replaced by one not unlike Reginald’s epression.
“One of the Durmstrangs – that really tall one – told me that he was going to pop my head off like a mushroom cap.” His eyes were very wide, and it looked like all he could do not to vomit on the spot.
“Hmph,” Serminia replied, seeming to regain some of her composure, “I won’t let him do that. You’re MINE.”
Wondering at this astonishing exchange, I resisted the urge to eye the crowd myself. If I saw them now, perhaps I wouldn’t simply faint dead away when I went outside and saw them in a few minutes. Before I could enact this plan, though, a trumpet blared loudly some where outside, and the cheering grew to new levels.
A shrill, piercing voice cut through that and silenced it in an instant. “I, Eratas, Snitch of Yore, have come to witness and direct this Tourney, in form of the most Ancient Game of Cuchuddach, now given the Vulgar name Quidditch. Deeds unbefitting of a Knight…er…Player will be dealt with most harshly, and it shall go Most Ill with the Malfeasants. But never forget: Glory goes to the Bold! Let the Players enter the field, and the Game Begin!”
caspiangray, and she showed me around Yokohama (or at least the area around Ishikawacho station, which includes Chinatown and some other neat stuff!) a bit, which rocked. It's so nice, as I've already said once this week, to have the chance to just spend time with other people. I don't think I ever really appreciated it as much as it deserves, but never again will I consider it so ordinary! She'll be joining me in Shinjuku on Friday, too, because I have to go pay my rent, and she's not been there in 5 years apparently. Since I think Shinjuku rocks, it'll be fun to get to go round with someone. ;)So today, I got to cheat horribly. This entry includes two letters and the intro to the Quidditch game...all of which are based on previously existent material. Tomorrows post will be, also. I feel like I'm doing something naughty. ;)
Oh, to be young! When I awoke the next morning, I realized I had slept rather later than I had intended, and was surprised that no one had woken me. I had rather missed breakfast, but in truth this was fine with me. I had gotten a very good rest, and I felt worlds better than I had the previous night. Indeed, no longer exhausted and shocked, I managed to convince myself with remarkable ease that I had been a silly ninny, that everything was wonderful, that I’d had a very nice night, that I had beaten Katrina and that was cause for celebration, and all in all I was as happy as I had been miserable once again. Conveniently, too, I thought I incredibly silly I had been, thinking to myself that I - I couldn’t even bring the world in to my head to give it credit! – that I had such strong feelings towards Marcus. I told myself I was far to calm and rational a person for such things, but that I now had a fine tool with which to leverage my parents, and, blushing to myself, I wondered when I might get to spend another such wonderful evening with him. At the thought of tools, though, the voice that had spoken so loudly the previous night did give a spasm and start to whisper. Determined to ignore it, I went to find some food, for the Quidditch match was at noon, and if I did not eat now I would not get to eat before it.
I had not been in the hallways long when a Gryffindor boy I did not know came a, with all possible stealth, passed me a letter. In Marcus’ hand, it said my name on the outside.
“Dear Delia,” it read, “I very much enjoyed the dance we had a chance to make up for. And congratulations on officially becoming Head Girl, as I don’t believe I have said so already. I was giving some thought to some of the things you told me about in regards to your situation at home. In light of that, I thought I might ask you to stay with my family at Whitebrook, our estate, for the holidays. It can be a very busy location this time of year and I fear that not all of my relatives are the most formal of individuals, but I am certain they would be delighted to meet you, and, for that matter, to have someone else to press food upon. I don’t mean to seem improper or imply insult to your family, an I hope this offer gives no offense and is taken in the light it is meant in. Consider it, if you would, as an entirely selfish request for your company during a whimsical time of year.
“I am sorry we have not had as much time to spend together as would be preferable. Between WAP sessions, classes and prefect duties…well, I am quite certain you have some empathy for the situation. I have managed to clear out some time on Saturday afternoon, and I thought perhaps you might like to join me for a flight around grounds? The forest looks very pretty from above this time of year. I think we may be able to catch it before the leaves fall.
“It is a rather unfortunate limitation on notes that they make one seems as though they are in fact doing all of the talking. Perhaps I might be so bold as to solicit a similarly talkative response?”
And it was signed, simply, “Marcus.” And from the folds of the letter, a small charm, gold and etched with the words, “for luck” slipped out. I smiled, and placed the charm carefully in my pocket.
All thoughts of food forgotten, I turned straight around to write a reply, humming a tune that even I did not recognize at the time as one to which I had danced the previous evening.
“Dear Marcus,” I wrote quickly, for I had increasingly little time before the match, “I would love to go to your home for the holidays! I must seek my parents permission first, of course, for I’m sure they will want to be assured that there is no hint of impropriety to the situation, but I don’t expect that they will say no. Indeed, I will use every tool at my command to ensure that they say yes, for I very much want to go! If, though, it turns out that we cannot arrange for me to visit, we must find a time to meet soon before, for I have thoughts on the topic of gifts, and it would be most grieving to not be able to present a present in person.
“I certainly know what you about busy schedules, it’s a wonder to me that I find the time to allow my potions to properly brew, I spend so much time running from obligation to obligation. I wonder how we found ourselves in this potion?
A nice fly sounds delightful, the perfect way to get away from the school – and all the duties that being at the school entails – for at least a few hours. A leisurely flight would be excellent, for it will, I imagine, take our minds off things. I have never viewed the Forest from above. Is it safe?
“Never fear that you are talking too much, I truly love to hear from you. I wonder if there will be a time when we are able to rela and spend time together with out any other concerns on our minds? I look forward to such a day.”
“Affectionately, Delia.”
And, for better or for worse, I sent by owl this terribly imprudent letter without giving a thought to how very forward I had been!
I wished then to write my parents at once, but I saw clearly that I hadn’t the time, and so I grabbed my things for the Quidditch match and hurried to the pitch to get ready. Food was completely forgotten, for a sudden nervousness – a complete and utter terror, even – had settled on me so completely that food was the farthest thing from my mind. The Ball and Marcus and Galatea and all manner of things had forced my nerves aside, but now that the match was upon us, I felt them all the more, ten times, one hundred times more than I’d ever felt nerves before. You’d have thought I’d never before played a game of Quidditch, never before even sat on a broom, with how nervous I felt at the prospect of playing Keeper. And any hope of support from the others was quickly dashed, for as I joined them in the locker room, I saw on their faces that they felt as I did. Tight lipped, gray faced, set expressions, we all dressed in our robes for the match mechanically, and then lined up.
The day was overcast and ominous, and the winds were frankly treacherous, coming in unexpected bursts that pierced the locker rooms and left us shivering and afraid of how it would affect our flying. Above us, we could hear the ever-growing swell of the crowds as noon approached. There was surely no way that the assembled students alone could make so much noise, and I wondered, nauseously, just how many other people had come, and who they were.
Reginald was far enough disturbed that he peaked outside, and when he looked back towards us his face was distinctly green. “Ohhhh,” he moaned.
“What’s the matter, cousin?” asked Serminia. She looked, I thought, almost as if his pain brought her some amount of pleasure, and I dismissed that thought. Even for a Slytherin, that surely could not be the case. “Are you going to be sick?” She glanced out of the tent herself, and when she looked back the haughty expression on her face had been replaced by one not unlike Reginald’s epression.
“One of the Durmstrangs – that really tall one – told me that he was going to pop my head off like a mushroom cap.” His eyes were very wide, and it looked like all he could do not to vomit on the spot.
“Hmph,” Serminia replied, seeming to regain some of her composure, “I won’t let him do that. You’re MINE.”
Wondering at this astonishing exchange, I resisted the urge to eye the crowd myself. If I saw them now, perhaps I wouldn’t simply faint dead away when I went outside and saw them in a few minutes. Before I could enact this plan, though, a trumpet blared loudly some where outside, and the cheering grew to new levels.
A shrill, piercing voice cut through that and silenced it in an instant. “I, Eratas, Snitch of Yore, have come to witness and direct this Tourney, in form of the most Ancient Game of Cuchuddach, now given the Vulgar name Quidditch. Deeds unbefitting of a Knight…er…Player will be dealt with most harshly, and it shall go Most Ill with the Malfeasants. But never forget: Glory goes to the Bold! Let the Players enter the field, and the Game Begin!”
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