1/41»
Every rose wilts
"Dimmer men than I can sort that one out for themselves." That is all you will get from me about some subjects of a particular stature. Annora Black. Seventh year Slytherin and Head Girl. If you care enough to know more, then please feel free to send an owl or whatever other vermin you may have. |
There you have it. You understand.
Ah. Is it the Head Girl thing? I thought you could take a break from that over the holidays. Family stuff. So I had to stay here. Guess we’re companions for a couple of weeks. Or we can avoid each other the whole time. Whatever’s amenable to both of us.
I would make a witty remark on your cheek, but I would imagine you might find too much pleasure within it.
It is an option, yes, but I imagine I’m not missing anything that I had not witnessed last year. Companions, you say? I dare thought you saw me as the dictatorial machine that so many others have no qualms telling me that I am. I have no reason to avoid you, James. Don’t be silly.
Smoking and boredom are mutually exclusive.
How has life been?
Right, just as yellow teeth and werewolves corrolate with madness.
I was originally supposed to be home for the holidays, but duty calls and Christmas here would be no different to Christmas there. As for you?
mrmoonypresentshiscompliments:
As though it had something to prove, the start of Winter came with a harsh cold that etched itself into the bones of every inhabitant of the castle. Hogwarts had known better days, perhaps, when there were more laughter and cheers, and albeit some of them had been drowned by the ever impending gloom that had permuted the population of the magical castle, the upcoming Christmas seem to be impeding complete morosity, if just for a while.
Perhaps, by pure chance, Remus Lupin had not felt the blunt edge of tragedy. The lycanthrope had many a thing to fear already; his illness, his best mates getting in trouble, prefect duties that seem never to end, exams, homework and a heavy heart that attempted to smother him with confusion and awe; a rare delicacy usually reserved for those who life had smiled upon with normality. It was, to some extent, a blessing not to add the death of a family member or a close friend, a harsh reality that percentage of the student population had to deal with, but, as always, Remus was one to suffer the pain with those less fortunate. The images of crying children and the commotion the news of the, what Remus is now calling “terrorist attacks,” would flush down his chocolate orbs whenever they shut the world around him. Even his closest mate had been on the receiving end of the ordeal. The ever jovial Marauders had suffered like the rest, a fact that was most alarming. The wizard had feared his companions would have the gall to partake on some sort of extreme action at the news. Luckily enough, for both Remus and the world, they had grown more sensible with the passing of the years. They were all solidifying their own relationship, become more astute, less prone to actions of wild abandonment and passion. They were drifting, and only the call of duty would summon them together.
As the cool winds of winter were summoned by these brisk days, so was the Gryffindor beckoned to partake in a needless walk to assure some sort of sanity to all the chaos. It was now a free period, prefect rounds were done for the day (having to escort a first year student to the Gryffindor Tower was surely the highlight), the copper hair boy could afford leisure time.
Dressed in his usual shabby robes, he made sure to add a few extra layers. The Gryffindor scarf hugged his neck, clashing with the chosen ensemble of the wizard, but he could care less. Long had it been the day where he shied from others in an attempt to avoid strange looks and laughter. Like any other fault, Remus had learned to wear it as armor. It was, in fact, not the strongest of armors, cracks were a plenty, but it held itself towards most. Only a certain kind of person could penetrate such defenses, to strike hardy at the boy and to be shaken, brought down to his knees; harmful words from those he cared about.
Finishing it all off with a pair of hand-sown gloves, the brown-eyed wizard was more than ready to take his freedom stroll around the castle grounds. The other Marauders were not in sight, and even though he thought of recruiting the map once more, he decided against it. Today felt more like a careless whisper of youth, a hardly approachable to the “safe as milk” Marauder. Not today, he mused, not today. With a mischievous smile -for to not plan ahead felt more like reckless abandon than the average rule of life- Remus set forth into the unknown, swiftly moving past the Gryffindor Common Room, out the portrait hole and into the hardly occupated halls of Hogwarts.
His pacing was slow, not wanting to rush into anything, but to let it simmer in expectations. If he gets there in time, it would be wonderful. If he managed to miss a thing or two along the way for his tardiness, it was just as brilliant. He beamed at those who would recognize him, greeting and waving in the distance, most of these interactions were of younger students the Gryffindor had helped at some point or another; be it in their studies or the during his prefect duties. For the most part, he kept the amicable grin on his face, a gracious early Christmas gift for those that crossed his path. It was a good day.
Making his way through the courtyard, the tune of the perfect lullaby caught his ear. The sound ran through his very soul, awakening the swarm of butterflies that had finally lay dormant in his entrails. The golden tapestry of the softest skill embraced the scrawny scar-ridden figure, sending shivers all over his spine in a mere instant. As a reflex, he turned towards the voice’s direction, feeling the thumps in his chest growing ever louder, trying to break free from its prison. His vision was blurred, the crisp winds had finally taken effect on the young wizard, or so he would like to believe. Yet there was no mistaking it, the canary-haired witch was there, sitting by herself.
“Going to lock me away with Malfoy?” he called out to Annora, making his way to her. As he approached her, he couldn’t help but noticed that the witch was ill-equipped for this winter’s day. The smile that had adhered itself since the beginning of his stroll faded with the mouthful of vapor that emanated from chapped lips. It became cold, the shivers that once ran through his body had transformed into quivers and chatter. “Aren- Aren’t you cold?” The question dropped, the words burdened with a heart wrenching weight. Quickly, he took off the crimson and gold scarf of his and wrapped it around the witch’s neck. It was a strange sight; a snake in lion’s clothing.
“What are you doing here by yourself? Merlin’s beard, you must be bloody freezing.” The lycanthrope didn’t know what to do, what to say. Once more had every preoccupation awoken and the only comfort were the emeralds that have dimmed.
In any number of circumstances, the melodic sound of Remus Lupin’s voice would’ve made Annora’s whole being shiver. Her mouth would’ve gone dry with an unquenchable desire to know more, her throat thick with the mere thought he possibly felt the same, and despite the fact that her better senses told her otherwise, she would ignore them. She sadistically fed into her wishes, knowing they could only end in catastrophe. Flaxen coils hid the downcast of her eyes and Annora licked her lips, debating. These were different circumstances, the kind that not even something as unnatural as they had could mend, if they had anything at all.
The spiteful chill of Winter could’ve been kisses to her skin as the center of her chest down to her toes thrummed with a diverse purpose than before; fast paced and heady, a steady beat that she was sure he would be able to hear if he were close enough. Who couldn’t hear it when it was so audaciously loud to her? It spoke across miles of dead space, between each atom and every star.
Annora, however, was still acutely aware of the photograph that was now being crumpled beneath her tense grip. Her breath fogged her vision; it rose out of her like the ghosts that now haunted her every wake. Eleanor, Alphie. Eleanor, Eleanor…
Her chest burned with the familiarity of lies when she said, “No, no, that would be far too cruel of a punishment.” She forced her full mouth into the subtle suggestion of a smile. The biggest lie of them all.
“I wouldn’t ever wish such a fate on a dementor, the poor thing,” she mused, but the blonde could feel the tremble when she said “fate” in her quiet tone. Her hands, once long and elegant, now shook with the sort of tremor that came from long built sadness, the kind of sad that made your veins rot and your heart sore like moldy paper or humid nights that suffocated the very air from your lungs and you drowned in the sheets of your bed. The word hung in the air, tacked to the crisp winds. It fluttered slowly.
“Dare I ask why you’re meandering about? Not causing problems, I hope-” Annora couldn’t quite understand what happened for a moment. She had her words, smoothly premeditated on the tip of her tongue and now her hands were shaking and she was finding it hard to make her lungs let the air in. Blood red and soft gold surrounded her peripherals, but Remus was still center, always in her sights. It’s funny how those sorts of things never really changed.
It wasn’t fair, this maddening desire. It would make her mind wild with thoughts that could never happen, her skin arose with goose flesh. But she didn’t want him to see. She didn’t want him to see the desperation in her jade stare, the sleepless nights that now decorated her under lids in a soft shade of lavender. Could he see the hunger in her lips? The rage that incinerated her from the inside out.
But despite all these things, she stared at him anyway. She wanted him and she didn’t want him to see her, to look at her. It was moments like these that made her wish she smoked cigarettes. She liked the idea of curling iridescent fingers, grasping for straws like she so often did and the cool, burning sensation of poison filling her and yet bringing a relief that couldn’t be duplicated by anything else.
But Annora knew she would never do it. She couldn’t even walk out her front door without someone shadowing her the entire way. Her shamrock stare staggered to Remus, her body now turning towards him swiftly.
She didn’t have many options for relief, but he always somehow or another, brought out the best of her and in her. “How about you tell me on the way to Hogsmeade? You did proposition me.”
Unfortunately no. I have a long list so I still have to work on a few things.
Well…I don’t actually know who you’re talking of but based on what you tell me stick with the classics.
I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you get them all done in time, if its any consolation. And dare I offer, I am here to help if you so need it.
Classics. Right. Sallinger, Fitzgerald, Rice…
Great! You can work with that. Sometimes the best gifts I give are ones I just find. There’s a small shop next to the bookstore. I’d recommend looking there for something. Just get something that reflects what you see in him.
Have you gotten your gifts for everyone, already?
A bookstore… you can never go wrong with a book… but what kind does he read?
Well, calm down. Freaking out about it won’t help you think properly.
Merlin…alright. So what do you like about this person? What…drew you to them?
You’re right. *smiles shyly* I’m being ridiculous, overthinking such things.
… Just him, I would imagine. I’m not quite sure to explain it. It’s not something I’m quite familiar on. I haven’t wondered about it, but if I were to choose… he has a pure heart. Much more pure than most I’ve come across.
Then the gift should reflect that. Not everything has to be over the top, you know? Simple things. Based on what I can tell, the person means a lot and something meaningful will work. What’s something you both share? Or…how about reflect the gift off something he’s shared with you?
I’m just really, dreadfully horrendous at this Marlene. Something he’s shared with me… chocolate could work… 
We don’t share anything. The only thing we have in common are that we are only children and that’s not much to buy a gift off of.
