Hogwarts, and Work
Nov. 28th, 2007 05:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unforthThe bad news: mom had been getting better from her illness, but it just relapsed really badly, and I'm probably going to have to finish the grant she started - she was only about a third of the way in.
The good news: I finished the draft of the grant I was working on today! 44 pages (double spaced) - that's 20 pages over the limit, ha, and still missing some data. Now comes the fun part of chopping it to little bits, separating the wheat from the chaff, such that the end result is concise, clear, thorough, and under the page limit! But not today. For now, I can take a few hours and just...be done. :)
Of course, there are always a million and one things for those students with authority to do on the train ride. Why, oh why, can’t Hogwarts students be trusted not to get in to mischief for even one 6 hour train ride? But they couldn’t be so trusted, not in the least. Still, my lot was still better than that of Marcus and the WAP boys; due to fears that the train might be attacked on the way to London, they were forced to accompany it on broomstick. The only reason that the girls were not doing the same was that GAB training hadn’t officially started yet. Still, with those 5 important, often calming, upper class influences in the hallways, it seemed that more trouble was made even then normal, and so I hurried up and down the train putting out at least a dozen figurative, and one literal, fire.
It was a relief when the train pulled in to the station; I hadn’t gotten to sit down once the entire time. The students disembarked as fast as they could, their heads clearly full of loving families, warm fires, Christmas trees surrounded by gifts, egg nog, and snow ball fights (though there was not an inch of snow on the ground, only a sort of awful muddy slush, so in this at least they were certain to be disappointed). The WAP boys landed, looking frostbitten and miserable, and though the prefects and I were to stay behind and make sure that all of the students and their belongings were off the train and to take care of cleaning it, I managed to sneak away to say my farewells to Marcus before he left.
“Delia,” he said with a warmth that was only apparent in his voice – his face was almost blue, and his lips a frightening white, from the cold, “I was worried I’d not get to see you before I left.”
“I was worried about that too,” I smiled a bit shyly, and slight bit of pink flushed his frozen cheeks.
He took my hands, apologizing for how cold his own were, and looked around. Most of the students and their families had left, and all those that remained were the relatives of students in WAP or currently cleaning. “Is your family here?” he asked. “Have you received any more word of them?”
“They’re not meeting me at the station,” I replied, “and no, though I wasn’t expecting to. Why do you keep asking me about that?” Once again, my announcement at this lack of communication seemed to bring an acute disappointment, more acute this time than of the previous times, and he sighed. I continued, though, feeling incredibly nervous. “So, um, is your family here?”
“Oh!” exclaimed Marcus, and color was definitely return to his skin now. “Just my father, but how rude of me!” Letting go of one of my hands (but not the other!) he pulled me after him to a man who looked very little like Marcus. I’d never have thought them related if he hadn’t told me. His father was kind of short, and kind of round, and very jolly looking. He had the look of a person who smiled often; and he smiled now, and broadly, to see his son.
“Marcus!” his father exclaimed, and the family resemblance emerged just from tonality and general enthusiasm. “Capital! How are you, m’boy?”
“I’m well dad,” replied Marcus. He wore a respectful and caring expression as he looked at his father, and his father wore a proud and caring one of his own. I felt a distant stirring of what I hated to acknowledge was jealousy. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” All thoughts of jealous flew from my mind. Meeting Marcus’ father!
“Oh ho ho,” chuckled father with a knowing look, “so is this the young lady you were so eager to have at Whitebrook for the holiday?” He turned to me, and I colored. “He has written us no less than 4 times to make sure that it was quite all right. I’m very sorry to hear you won’t be able to.”
“Me too,” I said ruefully, and then caught myself. “That is to say, Marcus described it as so near on idyllic that I think it would truly have been a delight for me to be able to come, but unfortunately my parents are unable to part with me – with so much of the year spent at school, we get to see so very little of each other.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” hastened father, “I understand perfectly. I’d have been reluctant to let my boy off to spend the holidays with strangers, too, and I haven’t a daughter’s dignity and virtue to be concerned about.” He was still smiling, but his eyes betrayed a shrewdness. “Well, where are my manners!” He thrust a hand at me. “William Relious. Work at the Ministry, domestic affairs division.”
I took his hand, reluctantly releasing Marcus’. “Delia Prince. I’m in Ravenclaw,” I continued.
“I know. Head Girl, too! But of course Marcus has told us all about you,” his father was chuckling again, and Marcus colored beet red. I was only a shade lighter. “Well, I imagine you have to see about your duties. And we have to get going! We’re staying at the Black House in town through the 25th, and then we’ll be returning back to Whitebrook for the duration. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again!” And he turned away firmly and walked about 10 paces, making no effort whatsoever to encourage Marcus to come with him, before stopping and dithering in a sort of practiced obliviousness. I goggled. What an amazing, wonderful fellow!
Marcus hurriedly took his opportunity. He took my hand, and we gazed into each other’s eyes in what could only be called from an outside perspective as a very silly fashion, and then he embraced me warmly. I returned the hug with as much warmth, and felt tears in my eyes. I was bitterly unhappy that my parents had not let me go with him, and it bothered me so that I was about to be completed divided from him for more than two weeks. He patted my head, and murmured something I couldn’t make out. But all too soon, we each forced the other away again. Such things were simply not proper. With one last lingering touch of the hands, I turned away and went back to the train, sniffling and ignoring the tear that streaked down my cheek. I didn’t look back. In truth, I’m quite mortified by how very silly we were, oh, the sacrifice of an entire two weeks, but we were young, and I was very much in love with him - we were very much in love with each other, I was beginning to understand.
The good news: I finished the draft of the grant I was working on today! 44 pages (double spaced) - that's 20 pages over the limit, ha, and still missing some data. Now comes the fun part of chopping it to little bits, separating the wheat from the chaff, such that the end result is concise, clear, thorough, and under the page limit! But not today. For now, I can take a few hours and just...be done. :)
Of course, there are always a million and one things for those students with authority to do on the train ride. Why, oh why, can’t Hogwarts students be trusted not to get in to mischief for even one 6 hour train ride? But they couldn’t be so trusted, not in the least. Still, my lot was still better than that of Marcus and the WAP boys; due to fears that the train might be attacked on the way to London, they were forced to accompany it on broomstick. The only reason that the girls were not doing the same was that GAB training hadn’t officially started yet. Still, with those 5 important, often calming, upper class influences in the hallways, it seemed that more trouble was made even then normal, and so I hurried up and down the train putting out at least a dozen figurative, and one literal, fire.
It was a relief when the train pulled in to the station; I hadn’t gotten to sit down once the entire time. The students disembarked as fast as they could, their heads clearly full of loving families, warm fires, Christmas trees surrounded by gifts, egg nog, and snow ball fights (though there was not an inch of snow on the ground, only a sort of awful muddy slush, so in this at least they were certain to be disappointed). The WAP boys landed, looking frostbitten and miserable, and though the prefects and I were to stay behind and make sure that all of the students and their belongings were off the train and to take care of cleaning it, I managed to sneak away to say my farewells to Marcus before he left.
“Delia,” he said with a warmth that was only apparent in his voice – his face was almost blue, and his lips a frightening white, from the cold, “I was worried I’d not get to see you before I left.”
“I was worried about that too,” I smiled a bit shyly, and slight bit of pink flushed his frozen cheeks.
He took my hands, apologizing for how cold his own were, and looked around. Most of the students and their families had left, and all those that remained were the relatives of students in WAP or currently cleaning. “Is your family here?” he asked. “Have you received any more word of them?”
“They’re not meeting me at the station,” I replied, “and no, though I wasn’t expecting to. Why do you keep asking me about that?” Once again, my announcement at this lack of communication seemed to bring an acute disappointment, more acute this time than of the previous times, and he sighed. I continued, though, feeling incredibly nervous. “So, um, is your family here?”
“Oh!” exclaimed Marcus, and color was definitely return to his skin now. “Just my father, but how rude of me!” Letting go of one of my hands (but not the other!) he pulled me after him to a man who looked very little like Marcus. I’d never have thought them related if he hadn’t told me. His father was kind of short, and kind of round, and very jolly looking. He had the look of a person who smiled often; and he smiled now, and broadly, to see his son.
“Marcus!” his father exclaimed, and the family resemblance emerged just from tonality and general enthusiasm. “Capital! How are you, m’boy?”
“I’m well dad,” replied Marcus. He wore a respectful and caring expression as he looked at his father, and his father wore a proud and caring one of his own. I felt a distant stirring of what I hated to acknowledge was jealousy. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” All thoughts of jealous flew from my mind. Meeting Marcus’ father!
“Oh ho ho,” chuckled father with a knowing look, “so is this the young lady you were so eager to have at Whitebrook for the holiday?” He turned to me, and I colored. “He has written us no less than 4 times to make sure that it was quite all right. I’m very sorry to hear you won’t be able to.”
“Me too,” I said ruefully, and then caught myself. “That is to say, Marcus described it as so near on idyllic that I think it would truly have been a delight for me to be able to come, but unfortunately my parents are unable to part with me – with so much of the year spent at school, we get to see so very little of each other.”
“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” hastened father, “I understand perfectly. I’d have been reluctant to let my boy off to spend the holidays with strangers, too, and I haven’t a daughter’s dignity and virtue to be concerned about.” He was still smiling, but his eyes betrayed a shrewdness. “Well, where are my manners!” He thrust a hand at me. “William Relious. Work at the Ministry, domestic affairs division.”
I took his hand, reluctantly releasing Marcus’. “Delia Prince. I’m in Ravenclaw,” I continued.
“I know. Head Girl, too! But of course Marcus has told us all about you,” his father was chuckling again, and Marcus colored beet red. I was only a shade lighter. “Well, I imagine you have to see about your duties. And we have to get going! We’re staying at the Black House in town through the 25th, and then we’ll be returning back to Whitebrook for the duration. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again!” And he turned away firmly and walked about 10 paces, making no effort whatsoever to encourage Marcus to come with him, before stopping and dithering in a sort of practiced obliviousness. I goggled. What an amazing, wonderful fellow!
Marcus hurriedly took his opportunity. He took my hand, and we gazed into each other’s eyes in what could only be called from an outside perspective as a very silly fashion, and then he embraced me warmly. I returned the hug with as much warmth, and felt tears in my eyes. I was bitterly unhappy that my parents had not let me go with him, and it bothered me so that I was about to be completed divided from him for more than two weeks. He patted my head, and murmured something I couldn’t make out. But all too soon, we each forced the other away again. Such things were simply not proper. With one last lingering touch of the hands, I turned away and went back to the train, sniffling and ignoring the tear that streaked down my cheek. I didn’t look back. In truth, I’m quite mortified by how very silly we were, oh, the sacrifice of an entire two weeks, but we were young, and I was very much in love with him - we were very much in love with each other, I was beginning to understand.
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 04:49 am (UTC)Thanks for the luck - I think it's coming together really well. I've really done more on this grant than on any other project I've ever worked on - I'm "lead" in every way, writing, communicating with the partners, designing the program, it's been....okay, this'll sound weird, but it's actually been fun. :)