“Lets see…trapped in prison…” -Luca
“Not surprising.” -William
“With my mother…………………….that’s unfortunate.” -Luca
“Mine is…Married to…Justin Beiber? Who is Justin Beiber….” -Wyatt
“What are you doing?” -Seely
“Oh! Seely! You created clones of….the cookie monster….goddamn it Seely.” -Luca
“Handcuffed for life to spongebob……………………….” -Logan
“Will, yours is-” -Luca
“I dont want to know.” -William
“Trapped in prison with Sarah Palin.” -Luca
“I can’t believe it. Not a single one of us got Voldemort or Potter.” -Luca
Stuck on an island with Edward Cullen? … wait. Isn’t he like, the reincarnated Cedric?
- Dear person I hate,
- Dear person I like,
- Dear ex boyfriend
- Dear ex bestfriend,
- Dear bestfriend,
- Dear *anyone*,
- Dear Santa,
- Dear mom,
- Dear dad,
- Dear future me,
- Dear past me,
- Dear person I’m jealous of,
- Dear person I had a crush on
- Dear girlfriend
- Dear boyfriend
I’d ask Seamus why he stayed with me the whole time at St. Mungo’s, but then left before I knew he was even there. I don’t think it’s much to ask, and I’m fairly certain that I actually know the answer, but it doesn’t hurt to just hear it.
Maybe if he had the courage to tell me, I’d have the courage to tell him the same.
The way her weight came against him and the way her tiny fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt did not escape his notice, but for perhaps the first time in his life, he chose the wise course of action and did not comment on either happening. At her insistence that she could take a jest, he canted his head to the side to catch her gaze and raised a brow in skepticism, as if willing her to admit that her history would imply otherwise. “…Right,” he drawled with a quiet chuckle.
Once inside and seated across from her, giving her a whole booth table between them to ensure he did not invade her personal space, he was glad to see her shed some of her layers — and not for the reason one might assume. It was already so warm outside, and as his fingers had grazed her skin, he realized that Lavender’s temperature was quite elevated. Assumptions made, he realized how uncomfortable she must have been in all of that fabric. Add to that the already cool temperature of the tea shop, and he was somewhat surprised he hadn’t heard an audible sigh of pleasure or relief.
He smiled at her, and was about to comment on how pretty he found her shoulders, when a shop attendant came around to take their order. Seamus gestured at Lavender, indicating the lady should go first, before ordering a simple glass of ice water for himself. Granted, it was a beverage that he could have gotten at the Inn, but the cleanliness of such water, he knew, was questionable. “Better?” he asked when the serving girl had returned with their drinks only a few short moments later. He took slow, long sips of his water before setting the glass down on the table, drawing a long finger down the condensation on the glass.
She would never have believed him had he said that her shoulders were pretty, especially with how deformed she felt her left one to be. She knew that she shouldn’t dwell on the scarring the way that she did, she should be lucky to still have her arm, or better yet her life. She knew how easily it was that she could have died at the castle, but she didn’t; somehow she had pulled through. She was certain that if she asked Seamus why it was she’d lived while others hadn’t, he’d simply answer that perhaps Death itself was terrified of the tongue-lashing she’d give if he tried to take her away so soon.
She ordered something simple, an iced mint tea, something refreshing that could take off the edge of the fire that she felt in her skin, barely waiting a moment after the drinks arrived to take a needed sip. “Much.” She spoke softly still, adjusting her hair to cover the shoulder that was mangled, leaving the other narrow shoulder naked. “I’d forgotten just how hot it could get in here.” It had been some years since she’d gone to this particular shop, but even still her body was different then. It hadn’t been so easy for her to overheat back before the war, before the curse.
It seemed that in the comfort of the shop, she didn’t know what to say, or what to do. The environment was wholly different from the Broomsticks and she was beginning to realize that this idea hadn’t been fully formed before being brought to fruition. What exactly should I say to someone that I — The thought was cut off. What was it that kept her from completing a simple thought around him? Had it always been like that, or was this a new development? Either way, Lavender didn’t enjoy being struck dumb, vocally or mentally.