6th Year
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Post by ivy nerine parkinson on Jul 29, 2012 2:07:46 GMT -5
It was a chilly Saturday, and a Hogsmeade weekend. Many students decided to simply stay in the castle and curl up in front of a fireplace, but not Ivy. She was dressed in her normal black outfit. Her all black converse with the laces tight in a spider-web pattern, black jeans, a black tank top and a black sweater. Her lacy blue bra peeked out of the black tank, and her hair was held back with a blue headband. A sapphire necklace lay gracefully on her chest, hanging from a silver chain. She stuck a pack of cigarettes and a blue lighter in the inside pocket of her black jacket. Her wand was tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. She slipped into the crowd of students leaving for Hogsmeade and once they entered the village, made her way to her favorite secluded spot, the Shrieking Shack.
Most people believed the shack was haunted, but Ivy was skeptical. It didn’t howl, it may creak, but that was only because it was poorly built and old. Ivy looked around the area when she reached the fence to the lookout point towards the shack. When she saw no one, she pulled a cigarette from her pack, lit it, and started walking towards the shack. Call her crazy, call her stupid, she didn’t care. The shack wasn’t haunted, she was sure of it. A long trail led to the shack, and she took it at a leisurely pace. She’d finished one cigarette by the time she reached the halfway point and started another. She looked around again. No one around that she could see. She didn’t want anyone yelling at her for going to the shack. Ivy continued walking, and soon enough she was at the front door of the shack. She leaned against the side of the building, finishing the last of her cigarette and stomping it out, before turning and trying to open the door. It was locked. “Figures.” She muttered. She rolled her eyes, and walked around the back of it. A window was already spider-cracked and she grabbed a rock from the nearby ground, smashing the rest of it in. With a bit of a jump, she climbed through…or rather, fell through. She landed on her hands and knees, and gained a few deep cuts in her hands from the fall. “Shit!” She swore, a frown upon her face. She sat down where she was sure there wasn’t any glass and began to pick out the pieces, biting her lip all the while from the blood and pain.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 29, 2012 15:08:11 GMT -5
coffee and cigarettes are my only escapei got my cup of joe, my pack of stokes [/b][/size][/center][/font] Hogsmede weekends were normally synonymous for a date and potential shag. Honestly, for the nicer girls, this was their only real chance for a date that didn't involve a broom closet, so before James had ever even had to ask, he'd been bombarded by requests to be the girl he would take out for the day. This particular weekend, the ironically named Chastity Johnson had been the luck bird who would be escorted around the small wizarding village by yours truly. She'd asked him a few weeks early. By no means was she the first to ask him, but he'd had to turn down the two third years who had giggled and asked if he would take them. Regardless, Chastity was good looking. She was a short, curvaceous, blonde Hufflepuff; James Potter had always liked a good blonde. With a pleasing appearance, she also had a tolerable personality. Her sense of humour was good and she laughed at all of his jokes, sometimes even making her own, she could hold a conversation and wasn't too gossipy: all around, Miss Johnson was a good girl for a Hogsmede trip.
This time around, James had been reasonably excited to go to Hogsmede. He would have a pretty girl on his arm and she'd told him that she had no qualms meeting up with his mates, even if only for a little while. This trip was supposed to be spectacular. In his mind, he could already taste the butterbeer and the potential of getting firewhiskey for later made him smile like a small child at Christmas. His plans were thwarted at breakfast that morning. As usual, he'd been sitting at Gryffindor table with the other marauders when mail had arrived. Generally, mail is an exciting event, particularly if there's something there for you other than just the Daily Prophet. James knew this, but at the sight of his father's tawny owl, he felt his heart sink. His mother would often send him owls just to check up on him, but his father hardly ever bothered to write him unless there was something seriously wrong. Over the course of the last two years, James and his father had been getting on increasingly worse. These days they hardly spoke to one another unless they were both to be found in exceptionally good moods.
Sitting in front of him now was a cleverly folded piece of parchment sealed with the Potter family crest. James could feel the eyes of his friends staring at him; they all knew what this letter might contain. The contents of the letter were exactly what James had expected. His father's messy handwriting, much like his own, scrawled emotionless news onto the page. Blinking twice as if he hoped it would change the contents of the letter, the young wizard tried to reread it. He read it twice, his fathers detachedly written words left little room to read into it. "One bloody paragraph," he muttered as he began to read it for the fourth time. James shook his head in frustration. "He could've written more than one paragraph" He thought to himself. Crumpling the parchment he threw it down next to his half-eaten breakfast. When Remus insisted that he couldn't just forget about poor Chastity Johnson, James turned to his friend with anger and frustration clouding his eyes. "Why don't you take her Moony, if you're so bloody worried about the bird!" and with that he stormed out of the Great Hall.
"Wingardium Leviosa." He cast in hushed tones and a small stick began to levitate. Expertly he manoeuvred it around the swaying branches of the great willow to a small knot that caused the tree to freeze. As he had so many times before, he darted past the violent branches that, for now, were magically still. Almost as quickly as he had entered the cold, dank tunnel, he had exited it into the quiet of the Shrieking Shack. Fumbling around in his pockets, he finally managed to find a half-used pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long frustrated drag. What the hell was that git of a father of his thinking sending him a letter like that? He may as well have read it in the prophet: it sure as hell would've had more emotion there. James closed his eyes, trying to block out the anger and only think about the smoke. He just wanted to let it relax him when out of nowhere there came a loud shatter. "Bloody hell," he muttered angrily, drawing his wand an approaching the corner. If there was an intruder he would be ready. WORDCOUNT[/b]|[/color][/size] 772TAGGED[/b]|[/color][/size] IvyLYRICS[/b]|[/color][/size] Coffee and Cigarettes - NeverShoutNeverCREDITS[/b]|[/color][/size] Lacey's stuffNOTES[/b]|[/color][/size] Sorry, I had to rush the end a bit.[/blockquote]
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6th Year
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Post by ivy nerine parkinson on Nov 23, 2012 2:50:47 GMT -5
A particularly nasty bit of glass was lodged in her left hand, and tears welled up in Ivy’s eyes as she tried desperately to dig it out without causing too much more harm. Ivy bit into her lip, trying to keep the tears from escaping, but bit so hard her lip started to bleed. “Damn it!” She shouted. Her hand was bleeding badly, and try as she might she couldn’t seem to remember any spells to fix it. With her right hand, she ripped off her sweater and her tank top, and wrapped the tank top around her bleeding left hand. Carefully she then wrapped her sweater around her, and leaned up against a wall, pulling out her pack of cigarettes and lighter. She was shaking and shivering, and tears were beginning to flow freely as she lit a cigarette and began to smoke it. She took long drags, trying to calm her nerves and ease the pain. Her tank top was becoming soggy with blood and Ivy’s anger grew. “Sixth bloody year and I still can’t remember anything useful!” She groaned, and took another drag of the cigarette trying to calm herself enough to figure out what to do next.
Note: Sorry for the poor length!
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