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| From Poxed to Bollocksed | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 7 2012, 09:46 PM (131 Views) | |
| Paige McFadyen | Aug 7 2012, 09:46 PM Post #1 |
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Being stuck in school for nearly thirty days had done Paige’s head in. She blamed her father for the longest case of Dragon Pox she ever had; of course, people said you could only catch it once, but not Paige. Oh no. She’d had the pox seven times since she was five. Her healers couldn’t explain it, but Paige had no immunity to the disease at all. If she so much as sniffed someone with a red hive caused by the pox, Paige would be laid up for days with the full blown symptoms. She thanked her father the entire time she was in the hospital wing for sending her a letter informing her that he had the pox and would be in Mungo’s through her birthday. He actually touched a letter with his bloody poxed hand and sent it to her. Great birthday gift, da; every girl wanted Dragon Pox for her seventeenth. So, on her first day out of the infirmary, Paige was seeking out sunshine and beer. A pint of Carling would wash the taste of the potions she’d been sucking down all month out of her mouth. And she was paler than Nearly Headless Nick. Sunshine was a must. But where to get beer and sunshine in the same place? The idea dawned on her the day before she was released from the ward. It would be easy, probably too easy. Which, of course, meant that it wasn’t going to be easy at all. She’d sneak to the cellar in the Three Broomsticks, grab a case of beer and then sneak back to Hogwarts and drink it on the far end of the Black Lake where none of the staff ever patrolled. And, for good measure, she’d try to disillusion herself. The last thing she wanted was to land detention for a year after being confined to the infirmary for a month. Plus, if her dad discovered she was drinking, he’d have her sent to a stricter school… like Durmstrang. And she hated that place. Through the tunnel she trudged, dodging roots both above and below. Every once in a while, her dark hair would get stuck on a root and she’d have to stop and yank it free, grumbling about the split ends it was going to cause. The walk to the Three Broomsticks used to seem like a lifetime, but after six years, the time sped up. She was barging into the cellar in no time. A rat scurried across the cement floor, but for a split second, Paige thought it was the barkeep. She shuffled down to her knees and hid behind a barrel of ale. Not very effective, because her head was still visible and she wasn’t invisible, but it was a solid effort. Once she deduced the source of the noise, she pushed off the ground and made her way to the tall, metal cabinet underneath the stairs. Her fingers glided over the dusty cartons used to hold the beer. She passed over a variety of different drinks; dark ale, light brews, mead and whisky mixes. Paige’s bright blues found a case of Carling, her guilty pleasure, dustier than the rest, all alone at the end of the cabinet. Not many wizards were fond of Muggle brews. The case was far too heavy for her to lug back to the school; Paige was a very thin girl, not much muscle mass to her at all. And she still felt a bit woozy from the pox. Best to conserve her energy. Okay, so she really just didn’t want to carry the damn thing. Lazy. Whatever. She pulled her wand free from the studded holster around her thigh and cast a locomotor charm on it to float it to school. As she passed through the door of the tunnel, a door slammed in the cellar. The stairs creaked under heavy feet. Paige ran with the case of beer following her at the same pace her legs were carrying her. She tripped once over a root, fell to her knees, but picked up and kept going. After five minutes of running, she knew she was in the clear and slowed down until she reached the portrait hole that she had crawled into earlier. Tumbling onto the floor of the school, Paige cursed under her breath and pushed herself up from the ground. The case of beer smacked her on the back of the head and she jutted forward, straight into another body. “Paige!” A simpering, sugary voice whined at her. Paige winced. Florence Beckingsale, junior prefect of her class. Smarmy, uptight bint. “Why are you covered in dirt? Are you okay?” If Florence noticed the beer, which wouldn’t be very difficult, what with it just hovering in the air all nonchalant like, Paige would be spending the night in the armory shining metal. She had to think fast. “Is… is that Kian Maher up there on a broom?” Paige asked, pointing in the opposite direction of her beer. “I bet that’s detention for a month.” Florence’s face whipped around and she bounded away from Paige. The determined set to her eyes would have been comical if Paige didn’t have to book it outside before she got caught with her booze. Grabbing the case down from over her head, Paige glanced back and forth in the empty hallway, glad that no one seemed to be wandering the halls. Florence was jumping up the stairs, two at a time, so she wasn’t a problem. A small smile lit up Paige’s face as she took off in the opposite direction and snuggled her case of beer closely to her body. Once she was outside, Paige booked it to the far side of the lake and picked a tall tree to sit under. She swished her wand and cooled her beverage and then popped the top off. As she took the first sip, her head fell back against the bark of the tree and she crossed her ankles. Forget Potions class. This was the perfect way to spend a Monday. |
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| Caleb Archer | Aug 17 2012, 01:27 AM Post #2 |
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Every blade of grass came into startlingly sharp focus as the ground rushed toward him. Caleb flung his arms up at the last second to try to cushion the fall. A loud crack could be heard as a bone in his arm snapped and he fell in a heap onto the half frozen earth. The pain was sudden and sharp but it was quickly buried under a wave of anger that flooded through him. For the most part, Caleb was a fairly easy going fellow. He was generally a likeable guy with an even temper but being knocked off his broom during a team practice was bound to make him a bit tetchy. And the fact that a bloody bludger was aimed at his head by a girl who was still mad at him for canceling a stupid party. Using his uninjured arm, Caleb pushed himself to his feet and whirled around on Gwen, who had hit the bludger that had knocked him clean off his broom. The dark hair girl landed on the ground near him and was stammering out a half hearted apology. “Sorry, Caleb… I didn’t mean…” She began, as insincerely as humanly possible. “Shut up, Gwen… you’re benched.” Caleb snarled at her as he cradled his broken arm. “You want to be pissed at me because I cancelled your little party? Fine. Be pissed from the stands. We aren’t losing the game because you are a vindictive little bint.” “You can’t bench me, Archer. You need me up there.” Her voice was shrill and indignant. “Can and did. Lincoln!” He called out to one of the alternates who were waiting anxiously by the sidelines. “You’re in on Saturday.” The towheaded second year nodded nervously as his mate clapped him on the back in excitement. Caleb turned back to Gwen with a dark look in his pale blue eyes. “Try a stunt like that again and find yourself off the team permanently.” And with that, he stormed off the field toward the school. He was going to need to see the healer about mending his arm. It was a simple spell but bloody painful when the bone knit itself back together. Plus he’d have to deal with the lecture about how the game of quidditch was a dangerous sport that should be banned. With a broken arm, he was in no position to argue. This wasn’t turning out to be his best day ever. An hour later, Caleb was leaving the hospital ward in an even fouler mood and with the bitter taste of a healing elixir still in his mouth. The idea of heading back to the common room was not appealing. He had no desire to deal with the drama that Gwen was bound to stir up. He needed just to get out of the school for a bit and clear his head. Without another thought, he headed down to the front entrance and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He could hear the distant voices from the quidditch pitch. The chances were good that he’d find the last few members of his house team still practicing. He spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction toward the lake. He’d had enough of people today. As the voices faded into the background, Caleb drew in a sigh of relief. He could feel the tension easing from his shoulders. He was supposed to meet Tessa in a couple of hours but for the moment, he needed peace and quiet more than anything else. He neared the lake and immediately spotted a dark haired figure leaning by a tree. Paige MacFadyen. He recognized her immediately as one of Gabe’s friends. He spotted the brown bottle in her hand, and knew immediately that it wasn’t butterbeer that she was sipping. He sighed again and in a way that would have made Tessa proud, he marched up to her and folded his arms over his chest. His left arm ached slightly which caused a small wince to cross his face. “Do you even know how many school rules you are breaking right now? Not to mention, silly little laws like underage drinking?” Unfortunately, he didn’t sound disapproving. Even to himself, he just sounded tired. Exhausted really. It had just been one of those days. |
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| Paige McFadyen | Aug 18 2012, 06:30 PM Post #3 |
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Twenty four bottles of beer in the case, twenty four bottles of beer. Take one out, down it alone, twenty three bottles of beer in the case. Twenty three bottles of beer in the case… Okay, so it didn’t rhyme very well, but that’s one of many reasons that Paige never claimed to be a poet. The subsequent reasons being that she hated poetry and counting. However, catchy tunes were probably the highlight of any day Paige spent in the world. She had made it down to nineteen bottles of beer in the case when a disturbance in the water drew her eyes away from the gallivanting youth that were beginning to encroach on her space. Paige’s attention was always divided, but whether it be the amount of alcohol or not, she found it exceedingly difficult to focus on one particular thing at the moment. A fish, olive green in color and equipped with two more fins than Paige could imagine a fish needing, breached the water and flopped in a perfect summersault before it crashed back into its home and swam away. Huh. Paige sipped from her bottle (sip being an understatement) and watched the rippling water until a bunch of bubbles formed at its surface. A grindelow probably snagged the fish. Maybe the Grindelow would grow extra arms. She was seriously questioning the radioactivity of Hogwarts’ Black Lake. Pouring out the last ten percent of her beer onto the springy lawn, Paige lolled her head back against the bark of the tree. Once empty, she tossed the bottle into the case of beer and pulled out a fresh one. Eighteen bottles of beer in the case… Her arctic blue eyes fluttered shut as a breeze swirled around her, so strong that it shook several green leaves out of the branches above her. It was probably due to that breeze that Paige didn’t hear the steps of the bane of her existence, the ever straight-laced and virtuous Caleb Archer approaching. “Do you even know how many school rules you are breaking right now?” Paige raised her eyebrows, eyes still shut. She didn’t bother to open her eyes when she heard his voice. For effect, of course. Paige didn’t want him to get it into his overworked, tirelessly good brain that she for one second gave anything more than less than a fuck. She took a swig from her beer and held it close to her chest in case he tried to steal it away from her. “Not to mention silly little laws like underage drinking?” Paige let it stew in the air for a few minutes, not acknowledging Caleb had spoken. And then she decided that he wasn’t going anywhere and she was bored. She opened her eyes and locked them with his, spun around on her butt and brought her feet in under her knees. “You know, Archer, I… ” He looked just as bored as she felt, arms crossed, and his face plainly showcasing his exhaustion. She sighed. It just wasn’t fun if he wasn’t in the mood. Banter was only as good as the people it came from and if he was going to be dozy while they did it, it would be just like trying to get shit from a rocking horse. Paige set down her beer and reached back towards her case to grab another. Lifting it up to Caleb, she thrust the drink towards him. “Here.” When he didn’t immediately take the bottle, Paige jumped up from her seat and grabbed his hand and worked his hand into a fist around it. Like clay. “You just put it up to your lips, sip it and then all your worries go away. Simple stuff.” An exasperated noise came from her mouth as she leaned down to grab her own bottle. As she sucked in some more of the heavenly amber liquid, Paige’s shoulders relaxed again. If nothing else, she could use his finger prints on the bottle for evidence that Mister Goodie Two Bollocks had partaken in breaking the holy laws of Hogwarts. “Might as well do it, mate.” Paige coerced, knocking the top of his bottle with her own. “It’s not like you’re going to cause the third wizarding war by having a bevvie with a girl by the lake.” |
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3:25 PM Jul 11