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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2017 20:20:14 GMT
 Somewhat unusually, Lily was in a quite fantastically good mood. It was not as though there was a great deal happening politically to feel happy about, and the redhead knew very well that she was incredibly lucky to have a wedding to look forward to... although if she was honest, she was willing it to be further away. There didn't seem enough time in all the world to get everything done before the day was upon them, and though Lily was by default a calm and level headed person, she was for once prepared to admit that the prospect of all the organisation which was still to be done was beginning to get on top of her just a little. It might not have been quite so worrying had she had all day, every day, in order to get a grip on things, but what with working irregular shifts and therefore not always being able to get into the shops, her time was quite considerably limited. Lily did not like deadlines. Deadlines forced her to work faster, and if she worked faster, then the redhead was constantly paranoid that her work was not of the best possible standard. And this was her damn wedding! It was a once in a lifetime event, and if she got it wrong this one time then she would never forgive herself.
But even so, a girl had to relax occasionally, and so Lily was affording herself a rare treat today; she had the chance to drop into Diagon Alley due to a lucky change in her shift, and there was no way that she could possibly refuse the chance to visit one of her favourite shops. The redhead did her best to assuage her guilty conscience by promising herself to keep an eye out for books on wedding planning- and she would do it, too; if she remembered, of course. Even so, she could feel a familiar wave of happiness and contentment creeping over her as the bell over the shop door tinkled, and she closed the door quietly behind her. Bookshops and libraries were chiefly inhabited by a studious class of people and as such, it was in one's best interests to keep as quiet as possible. But Lily was good at being quiet, she had had plenty of practise, and so she tended to get on rather well with the kind of people who looked as though they had been in the shop for longer than the books. They left each other alone.
The witch offered a slight smile to the shop's proprietor, who acknowledged her in the same fashion, before moving a little further into the shop. She knew her way around the place perfectly after the six years which she had spent visiting Diagon Alley, but even so she was mentally lost in the labyrinthine twists and turns of the shelving, each inch holding a new and wonderful adventure in the wonderful world of literature. Yes, Lily was obsessed. She didn't care. |
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Dec 28, 2017 21:30:26 GMT
 She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
Saturdays were always a busy night at the Starlight where Dora worked as a bartender. Once a month she got a weekend off, a bit of favoritism from her bestie, Fin, who happened to own the speakeasy where she worked and had given her the job without question. It wasn’t total nepotism; Dora had been mixing drinks since she was nine, first for her parents and eventually for herself. She made a mean cocktail, no one could deny that. She was good at her job, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy it. She had never thought her life would come to serving drunk and sweaty pub goers for tips and the off-chance of getting a decent bloke’s name. She was raised to be a socialite, despite her family never really having the money, but after her father’s death there was even less money and Dora had been cast out at the sake of her own mother’s self-preservation. Thank the gods for Fin. He took her in, gave her a job, and most importantly he never made her feel looked down upon even in her darkest moments. She couldn’t very well complain to him about being ‘working class’ when he was the one keeping her employed.
If only today had been one of those weekends off, Dora would be at home getting ready for her own evening out instead of taking it easy for the day so she had stamina enough to make it through her shift. She liked sleeping in when she could, but there was a vast difference between sleeping in and being a lazy arse. Up, showered, fed, and off for a day of leisurely shopping with money she didn’t really have to spare. She was wretched at maintaining a budget but she was learning to get by. She found one didn’t need to purchase every single thing they fancied, and some of the time she even got away with finding something similar on sale. Bookshops were exceptionally budget-friendly, as she could order a tea in the lounge and sit, reading a book she couldn’t afford without having to be seen at the public library like a street urchin looking to come in from the cold.
Bending down to scan the titles on the lower shelves, Dora’s green eyes moved from book to book, looking for something to pique her interest. There were plenty of adult novels for her to read at home, and she knew better than to peruse books on dark arts in public. The Dark Lord was rising in power by the minute but he was still considered dangerous to the Ministry and his supporters were both feared and hated. Dora didn’t need that sort of attention, despite her affinity for attention of most any other sort. She was in the non-fiction section but as nothing was catching her eye she began to wonder if she shouldn’t look at literature instead.
Rising from her position near the floor, Dora stood to her full height of 5’3” (with an added five inches thanks to her heels) and turned, intent on crossing the shop to look elsewhere for the day’s entertainment. Instead, she came face to face with a pasty redhead, very nearly colliding with her. “Watch it, Red,” Dora said with a shake of her head. “You’re not the only one in the shop today, you know.” The girl looked familiar and Dora was fairly certain they’d gone to school together though she couldn’t quite put her finger on a name, so she was either not in the same house as Dora or she just wasn’t important enough to remember properly.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2017 22:18:34 GMT
L ily loved books; in fact, one might go so far as to say that she adored them. They had been the one constant in her ever changing world. She had read as a child, she had read as a teenager, and now she was reading as an adult. If, for some reason, anyone wanted to chart the progress of Lily's life, then they might well have done so through literature. When she was nine and she had first met Severus Snape, she had been reading Matilda and finding it absurdly simplistic- when she was fifteen and the two had parted ways for ever, she had been ploughing determinedly through War and Peace, in the intervals of her revision of course. When she'd first decided that James Potter was a complete idiot, she'd been reading Jane Eyre, and when she'd realised that actually, maybe he wasn't, she'd been reading A History of the Salem Witch Trials. Yes, Lily's live had revolved around books to an extent which she was entirely unafraid to admit. And so it was, in her opinion, only right that at this important juncture of her life, when she was just about to irrevocably tie herself to another being, she should purchase a new book. She was entirely satisfied with this logic, although the redhead honestly doubted that many other people would be. Still, she didn't have to justify her actions to any third party; only to herself, and as far as she could see, she had done that. Which, she confessed, was rather satisfying. Now, not only was she indulging in a little leisure time but she was also doing so in order to add to a lifelong tradition. So there, James Potter, stick that one in your pipe and smoke it. This put an added bounce into Lily's step and, considering that she was walking on air most of the time these days in any case, that was something to behold. There was almost nothing which could bring her down, so far as she was concerned. Until, that was, she very nearly fell over some woman who was squatting on the floor. To be honest, this was perfectly normal behaviour in a bookshop where, for some reason, it was considered good business practice to keep half of one's stock on the floor below the customer's sightline. In fact, Lily was just about to apologise when the woman shot up like a jack out of the box and started to shoot her mouth off. Well, Lily was not standing for that. She vaguely recognised her newfound opponent, although she couldn't quite say where from just at that moment, and that lent added fire to her words. "Well, excuse me for living!" she retorted sharply. "You'll note that I don't call you Brown, and perhaps you might consider returning the favour?" It really got to Lily when people referred to her by her hair colour; it just wasn't fair. Anyway, she rather liked her hair; it made her stand out from the crowd- though that wasn't always a good thing-, it went rather well with her face and she was certainly not going to change it just because of the archaic hair-colour-obsessed rambling of some empty-headed bimbo who came to a bookshop dressed to go clubbing. And now she was in a bad mood. Lily did not like being in a bad mood; it didn't suit her. Usually, she preferred to be sunny and cheerful, and other people preferred it too, because Lily in a bad mood was not an experience to be savoured. Euphadora Rose Parkinson || 603 words || Outfit |
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Dec 28, 2017 23:22:54 GMT
She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
The giantess snapped at her and came back with what she clearly thought to be a very clever retort. Dora was unimpressed. You didn’t just get to trample through the aisles dressed like some primary school superintendent running late to a meeting with the parents association and knock about the attractive people of the world because the gods cursed you with fire crotch. Clearly this witch wasn’t very bright, though she didn’t look exactly poor she clearly didn’t have the sense of fashion Dora had. No one had Dora’s sense of fashion; she was the epitome of a fashionista, and having little money to spare hadn’t hampered her in the slightest. Anything that was no longer in fashion was repurposed into something new. Dora had begun working on her sewing charms back in school, after her father passed and the family had first been placed on a budget. She didn’t like repeating outfits very often, and while she could usually get away with dressing up a skirt with a different blouse or pairing styles with different accessories, those sorts of tricks only took you so far in high society. Dora had to get creative and being a whiz with charms she quickly learned how to pull stitches and alter garments without completely making a mess of things. The redhead looming in front of her like some humongous tree could have used with a few sewing lessons, but really Dora just wanted to burn than coat.
“Perhaps I should call you 'Glasses' instead, since you clearly need them. It’s black,” she said, sweeping her hair off her face and patting the curls back into place, “not brown.” Brunettes were so common, Dora was glad to be set apart from them naturally. Her mother also had jet black hair, but the Parkinson men, they were brunettes all the way. Her brother Theon had had a mousy sort of brown hair, but he had styled it properly and dressed well enough that he stood out from the rest of the boys his age. Her father had a lovely dark chestnut color, it had been flecked with grey around the ears and Dora remembered vividly thinking how handsome he was drinking his brandy and talking business of which Dora didn’t understand a single word. How dare this witch bring up thoughts of her daddy when she was still trying to get over his death!
Dora placed her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg as she glared at the woman who refused to get out of the way. The redhead was completely blocking the aisle. What a cow! “Is there a reason you’re still standing here? Aren’t the other quidditch mums going to be missing you at the bake sale?” All Dora had wanted was to find a new book to read at the shop lounge and lose herself in a story for a bit before the shopkeeper caught on that she wasn’t planning on making a purchase today and shooed her from the shop. She hadn’t expected to be run over by an Amazonian redhead with poor fashion sense and even poorer manners.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 29, 2017 12:50:35 GMT
The woman had probably been a Slytherin, Lily decided; she thought she recognised the mindless arrogance and thoughtless superiority which those of that House so frequently seemed to display. She wasn't entirely sure why that was; perhaps it was because such a large proportion of that House, at least compared to the other three, appeared to be made up of purebloods. Knowing the name of every ancestor for the last six centuries tended to give people a certain self-confidence for a reason which Lily could not quite fathom- but then, perhaps that was because she was not a pureblood. The redhead had always been perfectly happy to live in the present. The past had gone, after all; there was nothing that anyone could do to change it, which was rather a shame since it would surely have been far easier on everyone just to kill Voldemort before things ever came to this state of affairs. But then again, would that be right? After all, Voldemort when he was six years old had done nothing wrong. He had not murdered or destroyed or tortured; he was not a dark wizard guilty of thousands of crimes. To kill an innocent child, even if one knew that he would later become the greatest threat to the safety of the wizarding world that history had ever seem... well, it left a sour taste in Lily's mouth, but then there were people who were less scrupulous, who would be perfectly happy to do such a thing. Perhaps, she considered, it was a good thing that the past could not be changed; it simplified matters a great deal. And even if one were to change history, who knew what consequences might arise? One could return home to find that one had never been born in the first place. But none of that seemed to be relevant here, and this woman was getting more and more on Lily's nerves with every second that passed. This was a bookshop, not a primary school playground, and she felt her very dignity was assaulted by engaging in such a confrontation in such a place. Lily's attitude towards books was very nearly reverential, and anyone else displaying an attitude which was less than so was liable to get on her wrong side straight off the bat. Some people might have laughed at the idea that she even had a wrong side. James wouldn't. She shrugged in a manner calculated to display her utter distaste at this conversation. "Black, brown... does it really matter? Just a few shades of hair dye." Whether the other used hair dye or not, Lily didn't know, and there was a charm which did a far better job in any case, but this did not, to her, seem to be the kind of woman who was content to be as nature had created her. "I am not a mother at all, thank you very much." The redhead had to stifle an urge to add something along the lines of although I have more chance of it than you ever will. Lily was not a man, obviously, and neither was she attracted to women- even if she had been, she was currently in the midst of a rather deep and ever-so-slightly serious relationship, but personally, she doubted that she could have stood the woman for a single evening on a date, never mind a lifetime as a partner. Euphadora Rose Parkinson || 576 words || outfit |
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Dec 30, 2017 5:02:03 GMT
She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
Green eyes widening with outrage. Dora’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Hair dye? Hair dye! This redheaded trollop was accusing Dora of dying her gorgeous black locks?! If they were anywhere less public Dora would have grabbed the stupid witch by her own horrid hair and thrown her to floor, letting the pointed heel of her stilettos do a little damage to that impossibly pink skin of hers. It was as if Red had dived head first into a swimming pool of rouge, not realizing that a little makeup went a long way. Or maybe all the pink in her face was the remnants of poorly concealed pimples. Since she couldn’t figure out a simplistic act like moving her fat arse over so others could use the aisle, she probably didn’t know the first thing about using vanity charms. Whatever the case, a few shoe-shaped holes in her forehead ought to do the trick, Dora thought.
Controlling her emotions had never been Dora’s strong suit. In school she had received plenty of detentions, mostly for getting caught with boys in the broom cupboards but a good handful of times were because of fighting. She didn’t always get into a row to defend herself, mostly it was to defend the honor of one of her friends. Dora did not like to admit to her emotions, but they overwhelmed her all the same; she wore her heart on her sleeve and Merlin help the poor, dumb twat who insulted her friends’ honor. Age seemed to help a bit, in regard to self-control, as Dora had not yet grabbed the redhead by her stringy hair and instead she balled up her fists in an attempt to keep her from scratching the witch’s eyes out. Dora simply stood there for a moment, glaring at woman, her eyes narrowing as she sized up whether or not it would be beneficial to beat this tramp into the group. She was certainly maturing to at least consider it beforehand.
The insult seemed to fly over the woman’s head, which was humorous enough in and of itself that Dora would be laughing during her retelling of this little adventure when she saw Fin at the Starlight later that night. Damn, she had work later. She couldn’t risk showing up with any scratches on her face or clumps of hair missing from her head because of the looming cat fight. Dora used her pretty face and charming smile to woo the patrons into leaving larger tips, or to pull the more attractive ones into the storage room on her break for a little extra attention. Another reason to not swing this woman by ugly red hair. Damn this maturity! “Not a mum? Really, with those thighs? You have the baring of a weathered mum, has anyone told you that? And the atrocious style to match,” she added with a sneer, looking up and down the boring tan coat that looked like it had come from a second-hand shop after someone with a bit more money and taste decided it wasn’t worth even taking the tags off before throwing it the bin.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 1, 2018 2:33:11 GMT
L ily had always detested being stereotyped as a redhead, which was rather unfortunate since she conformed to the accepted standard in so many ways. She did indeed have an intense personality which meant that she felt everything in much more depth than many others- Lily loved passionately and she angered quickly. It was just the way that she was, and there was absolutely nothing to be done about it, even if she had wanted to. And of course there were times when she had wanted to; in fact, there had been times when she had seriously considered dyeing her hair in order to get away from all the comments. But she had held firm because, above all else, Lily Evans was her own person, and even when she became Lily Potter, she would still be the same on the inside. She hoped. The Gryffindor alumna had heard that marriage mellowed some people, but Lily didn't know that she wanted to be mellowed. Life would be rather boring if she was normal, after all- or at least, that was the impression which she had gained from watching others. The woman was quite well aware that she was irritating her companion, and although she was not entirely sure as to how this had come to be, the other woman was annoying her equally as much, if not more so, and therefore, Lily was quite satisfied to leave things as they were. It was rather odd, she reflected, how one could form an instant judgement, based on little to no actual solid evidence, about whether or not someone would be worth getting to know, and it was even odder how often one could be right. Of course, one could be wrong too, the redhead freely admitted, but she did not consider that it often happened. She would maintain that the two cases which a prosecutor might bring up as proof that she had misjudged someone were inadmissable as evidence. Both Severus and James had changed quite considerably since she had first met them, and if she had been slow to recognise the changes in them then she could put that down to the rose tinted glasses. Metaphorical ones. Oh, what fun she and James had had with Muggle metaphors... "Oh, thank you!" the redhead responded with a smile to the darker woman's words. Of course Lily was perfectly well aware that the words had been intended in a derogatory rather than complimentary sense; her IQ was probably twice that of the other woman; but so far as she was concerned, motherhood was not an insult at all but the very highest of achievements. There was, after all, nothing wrong with ensuring the survival of the species, and while it was a blessing with which Lily had not thus far been honoured, she had no doubt that she would experience it in the fullness of time. There was no rush. The future of the human race could look after itself for a few more years yet. She did raise an eyebrow at the next comparison, though. "This is what those of us who wear clothes to earn a living call business wear." Lily explained in painfully slow tones. "We wear it when we go to work so that we look professional. Not your kind of professional, clearly."Words: 559 || Tags: Euphadora Rose Parkinson |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2018 7:36:05 GMT
❝ If you want love
you gon' have to learn how to change❞
So when they'd mentioned needing a few things from Diagon Alley, James had jumped at the chance to go for them. No point in sending the House Elves when they had a perfectly able son sitting around doing nothing, right? Besides, he needed to start looking at Wedding things. Not that he knew the first thing about weddings. But he didn't want to leave all of taht on Lily's shoulders. It was THEIR wedding, not just hers. Granted, he wasn't about to start stressing over every little detail. He weas sure the wedding was bound to be perfect, regardless of how it looked. They could run off and elope right now, and he'd still find it perfect. He was marrying her after all. What wasn't perfect about that? His parents had offered to hold the wedding ceremony at the manor, so they didn't have to worry about a venue. And the formal was large enough they could fit everyone inside it that was invited. If it were nice enough, they could even have everything outside. It would put the land to good use at least.
Once he'd finished the running around for his parents, James decided to stop at the book store. He personally saw them as nothing more tahn glorified paperweights. But he knew Lily loved to read. So that meant he was going to the one place he normally tried to avoid unless he had too (even when school shopping, James had made sure to make this his first stop, in and out to get it done and over with). The door chimed over head, alerting the staff within that another customer had entered the building. James quickly made his way through the many aisles, looking for something that Lily may have enjoyed. Perhaps he should have gone to a Muggle Bookstore. They were bound to have something she liked.
He was just about to turn and leave when he heard Lily's voice. Oh, he'd know that tone anywhere. He'd been on the receiving end of it many a times in Hogwarts. She was talking down on someone. A small snort escaped him as he listened to the words. Peeking around the corner into the next aisle, he saw Lily speaking with someone. The other woman was vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure they had gone to school together. Maybe a few years apart? "Lils?" He walked over to the two women, hazel eyes jumping between the two. "What are you doing here? I thought you were working today?"
Notes: Hope this is good!! |
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Jan 2, 2018 8:26:11 GMT
She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
The redheaded cow thanked Dora for the insults regarding her thighs – thunder thighs was what Dora referred to them as. They looked like they would rub together if she wore a swimming suit, not that they made them for giants like Red. The woman was trying to goad Dora by accepting her words as a compliment and there was no reason for it. All the witch had to do was take a step to the side, but she couldn’t even be bothered to move her fat arse, just her lips. Repeatedly. What Dora wouldn’t give for a private corner away from onlookers where she could just zap the bitch silent with a nice hex.
Dora laughed at the idea of black slacks and a boring white blouse being considered professional work wear. You didn’t have to dress like a mum on her way to her kid’s quidditch match to be professional. You could care about your appearance and get the job done; Dora proved as much at the Starlight tending bar. The other witches who worked the bar liked to wear trousers and a revealing top. Sure, their tits were on display but if that was all they had to offer it was just sad. Dora dressed the part, done up in 20’s style fashions her gran would have worn before the war. It gave an extra sort of pizzazz to the speakeasy and loads of compliments for Dora. There really was just no excuse for wearing trousers, but at the very least a decent looking pair that accented your figure would work. The Amazon who was (still!) blocking the aisle could have worn a paper bag and Dora wouldn’t have seen much of a difference.
If Ginger wanted to get smart, Dora would give it right back to her. She rarely had a problem with picking apart someone’s outfit. In fact, it was one of her favorite pastimes. “This,” she said, gesturing lightly to her dress, “is called style. It’s what attractive people have, and it’s no surprise that you have never heard of it.” Dora could have gone on, but she was interrupted by a man with dark, unkept hair. He definitely looked familiar. Pratt. Pott. Parker. Something with a P. Whomever he was, he clearly knew Red. ‘Lils’ he had called her. What sort of a wonky-arsed nickname was that? This witch was anything but ‘lil’. If she took off those hideously boring shoes, she’d still be taller than Dora in her heels. Nothing about this witch, mouth included, was little. Except maybe her brain. “Oh good, your wrangler’s here.” Dora spoke to the woman but had her eyes on the man, still trying to figure out where she knew him from. She waved her hand flippantly at the witch as she spoke to the man. “Can you take this giraffe back to whatever zoo she’s escaped from? Some of us have shopping to be getting on with and would like the use of the aisle back before the sodding new year.”
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Post by Deleted on Jan 2, 2018 22:35:00 GMT
L ily did not laugh when the other woman did. She was not amused. This was not an amusing situation to be in and hence, she did not find it funny in the slightest. To repeat an already over-repeated point, she was not happy. She did not enjoy being insulted, she did not enjoy arguments, she did not enjoy confrontations and she most certainly did not enjoy conversations with arrogant, stuck-up pureblood prigs who thought that they were better than everyone else just because they happened to have been around for longer. Who knew, maybe in a few hundred years Lily would have given rise to a whole line of magical children, and the Evans family would have made it into the top circles of magical society? They all had magical abilities, after all- in fact, Lily would go so far as to hazard a guess that hers would be vastly superior to those of whatever inbred line of fools that the dark-haired woman in front of her- whose name she still did not know, and had no desire to find out- originated from. And should they come to a duel, which she had no particular desire to engage in but which she saw that they were rapidly approaching, she suspected that she would have the opportunity of proving that. Her emerald eyes lit up when she heard that voice, though, as they had been doing for quite some months now, and there did not seem to be anything that she could do about it. Not that she particularly wanted to. Lily loved James Potter, she could admit that now even after she had hated him for six years of her life, but perhaps never more so than right at this moment. This confrontation was going nowhere but downhill; with any luck, perhaps her hazel-eyed hero would rescue things. And equally, perhaps he would make them worse. "Hey James!" she responded brightly to his greeting, giving him a look which conveyed in no uncertain terms the message: Oh my god, get me away from this woman immediately. And, of course, thinking, as she had been for the last few months, that she really needed to come up with some kind of a nickname for him. The trouble was that 'James' did not easily lend itself to such an undertaking. There was the generally accepted variant, of course, but somehow, Lily didn't feel that 'Jimmy' suited her wonderful fiance, but equally, 'James' simply felt too formal, especially if he was going to be calling her things like that. The redhead had experimented with variants upon his surname, but they didn't quite seem to work, and recalled memories of the days when she had still had a decided antipathy towards him. 'Prongs', she felt instinctively, was out of bounds. That was the name that the Marauders had for him, and Lily was not and never would be a Marauder. She knew that James loved her- how could she doubt it?- but she was not one of the Four, and hence, there were some places where she shouldn't go. Besides, she didn't even know how that nickname originated. Words: 530 || Tags: James Henry Potter Euphadora Rose Parkinson |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 3, 2018 16:46:04 GMT
❝ If you want love
you gon' have to learn how to change❞
It appeared as though James walked into the middle of a cat fight. One about clothing style. Now, being a male, James didn’t put much thought into clothing choices, but he knew women did. He’d always found Lily’s style as professional. It made her look smart. The brunette in front of him looked like she stepped out of one of his mother’s old magazines from back in the 1920’s. The other woman was shorter than Lily. But James knew how feisty shorter girls could get. Of course, their personalities were pretty much like the world was out to get them, so they attacked first, asked questions later if you were lucky. He turned to Lily with a frown, mouthing the word ‘wrangler’ in confusion. What the hell had he walked in on?! Of course, the look Lily gave him told him enough that she wasn’t about to put up with her any longer.
Oh… so it was about to come down to a duel. Well, his money was on Lily. And not just because they were together so it was required of him. That girl had a mean hex. Frowning, he turned back to the other girl. P… P… the name began with a P…. Not Prewett, they were a nice family. And mostly Redhead. It was clear she was a pureblood, because that attitude just about screamed it. “Parkinson, right?” If he remembered, she was a few years older than Lily and himself. A Slytherin two years older than them. Her father had been killed over the summer holiday, and he knew that her brother had died five months later in an attack. Regardless of the loss she’d suffered, her attitude wasn’t warranted. “Sorry, Love. But the only animal I see here is you. If you could tell me which Zoo you escaped from, I can make sure you get back safely.” Of course, as far as he knew, the zoo hadn’t wanted her.
He looked at Lily, eyes twinkling mischievously. He had no problems getting into fights with anyone. Granted, he’d managed to outgrow most of that behaviour. But well… some things died hard. He turned back to look at Parkinson. “Now. Can we settle this like civilized adults? As you’ve said, the new year is approaching. Also, and I’m sorry if this means I’m intruding, but the whole shop can hear you, the only place that is considered style was probably back in my Granddad’s time. The 20’s sent an owl and asked if you could return their clothing.”
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Jan 5, 2018 3:27:45 GMT
She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
“Parkinson, right?” So she had been right to think that she knew this bloke, though exactly how she knew him was yet to be seen. The light seemed to absorb into his messy brown hair and she could see her reflection in the lenses of his glasses. The redhead said his name and Merlin’s beard that rang some bells, too. She must have gone to school with them, though clearly, they were not in her house or she’d have remembered them by now. Poor sense of fashion. Quick to jump in without knowing what was happening. Obviously more than a little daft, as the cow only had to move a step to the left or to the right to open up the aisle so Dora could leave, which was all she wanted to do in the beginning. These two screamed Gryffindors.
While at school, just as she did now, Dora didn’t take much stock in house rivalries. She wasn’t interested in quidditch, which she believed fueled a lot of the silly rivalries around the school, and she wasn’t snobbish enough to refuse to make friends with people from other houses if they appealed to her in some way or another. There were plenty of people she had liked in Hufflepuff, not that she stayed in touch with many of them these days what with being an adult with responsibilities and whatnot. Ravenclaw blokes were always incredibly smart and more than willing to “study” with her in the library which she ignorantly confused for legitimate affection. She even had a few friends in Gryffindor, too, though there were certainly a fair few that were as annoyingly self-righteous as the pair standing in front of her. There really wasn’t a reason to dislike anyone simply because of the house the sorting hat had placed them in when they were eleven, but more often than not it was easy to tell by someone’s personality which house they had been in. Several years out of school and she still found herself thinking in terms of Hogwarts houses. Indoctrination at its finest.
James, clearly too dim to think up his own insult in defense of his girlfriend, regurgitated Dora’s previous remark back at her. The smug look on his face told Dora that he thought he had been clever. Dora gave a false laugh, finally recognizing the big-headed wannabe hero and the smart-mouthed redhead. “Oh, I know you. You’re the one Severus used to complain about,” she said to Lily. “The frigid bitch, how could I forget? And that makes you…” Dora turned her attention back to James, “that James bloke I screwed in the Charms classroom after curfew.” She smirked at them both and not really caring what lame-arsed comebacks they were trying to come up with. “Lovely catching up," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Now, if you’ll excuse me I really would love to be on my way and the only thing stopping my is your fat arse blocking the aisle.” She made a shooing gesture with her hand towards Lily, attempting yet again to get the redhead to step aside.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 5, 2018 16:41:53 GMT
I t was amazing how little people changed. There were a certain number of varieties, sure, but after that, everything was more or less variation on a theme. There were funny people and there were idiots, there were flirts and there were bullies, there were genii and clowns, bitches and sweethearts... Everyone, sooner or later, came under a category or even two, and perhaps it was Lily's scientific mind, but she tended to categorise people as a way of remembering them. She knew that she shouldn't; she knew that everyone was different, that people were unique... she knew all that rubbish, but when she looked at the people who she met in her day to day life, she still had the irresistible urge to categorise them. Take James, for example; when she'd first met him, he had instantly been categorised under the heading of 'idiot', with a metaphorical sticky note reminding her to keep well clear. Now, this girl here came very firmly under the category of 'complete and utter bitch', with an option on 'stuck-up snob' as well. Not that Lily would voice such thoughts aloud; she did not as a general rule tend to swear in conversation... if one could call this impromptu collision a conversation. Whereas this lady- which was, in Lily's head, pronounced in a tone which gave no doubt whatsoever that she was being sarcastic- needed her mouth washing out with soap, and she knew just the charm to do it, although she was resisting temptation for now. It was just one more confirmation that blood did not mean class. "Perhaps you would be frigid too if you found out that your best friend supported an organisation which would like to see you dead." the redhead pointed out levelly. "That was a statement, not a question. Don't bother to reply, I can guess what you'd say anyway." Lily had spent far too much of her life in worrying about what other people thought of her, and she had had just about enough. She was going to be herself, and she was going to do it so hard that the world wasn't going to know what had hit it. She had had it with being tolerant and calm and not rising to the bair. She had had it with snobs and supremacists and most of all, she had had it with Death Eaters. She didn't bat an eyelash at the woman's allusions to the Charms classroom. Lily herself had spent most of her school years desperately trying to escape from James Potter, and so she really couldn't complain if he had found ways of amusing himself with other girls. Although, looking at this one, she felt rather sorry for him if that was the best that he could do. She did think that he had had some standards. "I would appreciate it if you would moderate your language." the Healer informed the woman in her best schoolteacher tone. "There's really no need for anyone with more than two brain cells to use such words, and I am currently choosing, despite all evidence to the contrary, to believe that you do have more than two brain cells."Words: 535 |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 8, 2018 5:49:35 GMT
❝ If you want love
you gon' have to learn how to change❞
He opened his mouth before closing it; his face adopting a more thoughtful look to it. Charms classroom… He’d had a few shags there with a few different girls. Hell, there were only a few places in Hogwarts he hadn’t had a quick snogging session with someone. He honestly couldn’t remember if she’d been one of them or not. “Sorry Love. Don’t remember that one. Either I was too pissed, or you just weren’t that good. Either way, you clearly weren’t rememberable.” And any shag worth having would have been after curfew. “Clearly not much of a looker. So I’m going to go with I was pissed. Otherwise, I doubt I would have touched you, even if Imperius.”
The risk of getting caught made it even better, so public places were nice.
That’s seriously all this was about? James closed his eyes. It was purebloods like her that gave purebloods like him a bad name. “If you wanted to leave, you just had to ask politely. Without name calling or language. I understand inbreeding has taken a toll on a lot of you. But I do hope your not that primitive.” But he knew there was very little hope of actually achieving this. “And you are aware that the aisle opens at both ends, correct? You could have very easily walked the other way. You’re small enough too, so I do believe you could have shimmied your flat figure past no problem. Granted, your bulging eyes may make it difficult with your inflated head and sense of entitlement… so yeah… I can see where the problem would be. Though I’m afraid that’s nothing we can fix, even if we moved.”
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Death Eater Supporter
town broom
Sexuality
single mum
Relationship Status
Ministry of Magic Receptionwitch
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Slither
Offline
May 15, 2022 18:20:36 GMT
Tag me @dora
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Post by Euphadora Rose Parkinson on Jan 10, 2018 4:59:40 GMT
She was a little bit ruined a beautiful disaster but she was magic
An organization that would like to see this redhead dead. Well hell, that could be several organizations. Dora was close to starting one up now with the express purpose of disposing of this witch. She could throw in her little boyfriend as well, just to make things interesting. “They’re not the only ones,” Dora said snidely, despite the ginger trying to ward off Dora speaking any further. It was clear which organization ‘Lils’ was talking about, the Death Eaters. The statement, however, was stupid because as far as Dora could tell, the majority of wizards and witches supported Lord Voldemort, not just Severus. Dora wondered if she ought to write Severus to complain about this situation to him. She was hardly the time to suffer with such memories on her own; Dora liked to gossip and this was good gossip indeed. Severus had obviously known this pair and hadn’t got on well with them, to no one’s surprise. Dora vaguely remembered something about Parker…Potter…Painter? Whatever his names was, he and his mates would torment poor Severus in school and while Dora didn’t see the appeal of befriending Snape at first, she eventually grew comfortable with him. He was still one of the only blokes she had never flirted with, so that was saying something, but she could have actual conversations with Severus and ask him for help a time or two when she needed someone smart to help her. Sev was good for that sort of thing. He wasn’t a bad guy, just awkward as all get-out.
James was rambling on now and the effort he was putting in to try to tear Dora down was simply laughable. “Yea, I guess I could see how if you were such a big whore you wouldn’t be able to remember every girl you had sex with.” She turned her eyes from the messy pile of brown hair to the coppery redhead. “It’s good of you to not be bothered by the fact that your bloke’s screwed half of Hogwarts while he was there, and lord knows how many since he’s graduated.” If it hadn’t been obvious by the ridiculous manner with which James had sauntered up and started throwing out insult and insult in order to protect his girlfriend’s honor, Dora had caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on Red’s finger. She was smart enough to figure out the relationship between these two and Merlin’s beard were they meant for each other!
“You might want to clean your glasses, dear.” Dora pointed toward the other end of the aisle which, at the farthest end, was a stack of boxes that had started to be unloaded and distributed onto the shelves, but for some reason or another the clerk had been pulled away and the mess was left. “Now, if you'll excuse me…” Tired of waiting for the couple who was clearly at a physical advantage over the thin, petite witch to move out of the way, Dora literally pushed past Red and Glasses and sauntered away from them down the open side of the aisle.
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