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A Quiet Place
Topic Started: 10 Aug 2009, 01:20 PM (389 Views)
Magnolia Moon
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Magnolia Moon was sitting on a stump, her legs crossed at the ankles, and knees together. She’d always wondered, in the back of her mind, about the Shrieking Shack. The story had always been that it was haunted. Well. She wasn’t quite sure about that. It seemed silly. Every ghost she had ever met had seemed perfectly polite, and not at all inclined to haunt a filthy, run-down shack. Well, the Bloody Baron might, being that he was a very odd and particularly scary ghost. Maybe a vampire had once been housed there? Or maybe a vampire was still housed there, and the cries and crashes were those of his victims?

Somehow she doubted that the Ministry of Magic would have let such a thing go on so close to both a school and a village. She’d probably been reading too many muggle horror books again, to have her imagination coming up with such none-sense.

On her lap was one such muggle horror story; ‘Dracula’. That was probably why the vampires had been on mind. Although, she wasn’t entirely sure that the Muggle author had the right idea. As far as she knew, vampires weren’t very handsome at all, and could be perfectly polite if caught in a good mood. Besides she didn’t think there were any vampire ‘Counts’ either. The idea was simply ludicrous. Even if it did make for a rather good story. She tapped her foot drearily, mulling over other possibilities. More reasonable, non-ridiculous, adequate explanations.

She could always sneak in and take a look. No. ’Don’t go looking for trouble.’ She warned herself silently. That would only bring her a mess of trouble, and possible danger. There was a reason some of her less careful year mates were forever getting themselves into spots, and bunked up in the Hospital Wing. They went looking for trouble, and they found it, and nothing but bad came of it. If she remained the quiet observer than, of course, nothing bad would happen. It only stood to reason.

Maggie had already gotten everything she needed. It was the same thing she did every Hogsmeade trip. She bought a bit of chocolate from Honeydukes, and picked up a new quill from Dervish and Banges, and then she retreated to the hill on which she was now sitting, right outside of the Shrieking Shack. Not many people came up here, so it was quiet,and secluded. She liked it that way. She could rest, and read, and be alone. That's the way she liked it. Peaceful,and serene on a lovely day. And it was sort of nice, to look down on the village, and see students running around in the streets, laughing and goofing around. It sort of made her feel like she was watching a scene from someone else's life.
Edited by Magnolia Moon, 10 Aug 2009, 02:51 PM.
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Draco Malfoy
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(So sorry for the delay!)

Even if it was only for a day, Draco was more than pleased for the chance to get out and away from that damned school. The only reason he came back this year was because of the agreement that he had made with Dumbledore after last term. He had turned seventeen this summer so by wizarding law he was free to do whatever he pleased, including skip his last term at Hogwarts. Unfortunately for him, the school was also the safest place for one who had not followed through with the Dark Lord’s orders. Draco had not killed Albus Dumbledore, and nor had anyone else. The only thing that he could have done to save both his life and the lives of his parents was to agree to the protection that the headmaster offered him.

So the school had become like a prison to him; the simple fact was that there was nothing there for him anymore. He could care less about the classes or the people in them. Those in Slytherin who had death eaters for parents knew that his family had fallen out of the Dark Lord’s favor, though they didn’t know why. They now stayed away from him, maybe fearing that they would get the same fate simply by association. Those in Slytherin who didn’t know about his fallen status, well, it was Draco that didn’t care to be associated with them. He had spent much of his first week alone, and he preferred things that way.

His walk down to Hogsmeade was uneventful and longer than he remembered. Draco walked the streets with a haughty scowl on his face, wondering what made everyone else so happy as they bustled in and out of shops. Didn’t they know that it was only a matter of time before He Who Must Not Be Named finally destroyed Dumbledore and took over rule of their world? Draco still believed that, even if he had assented to listen to the headmaster and play by his rules for now. If that was what it took to save his own neck, then that was what he would do. Besides, he had a much better warning system than the rest of wizarding community, and that was likely another reason why Dumbledore kept him, and likely Snape too, around. Hidden behind the long sleeve of his black suit coat was the permanent brand that linked him to the Dark Lord. Even as the dark mark on his left arm continued to leave him with a constant, dull pain, it also served as a means for knowing when the death eaters were called.

He was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, as he didn’t really plan on doing any shopping and didn’t really want to remain surrounded by crowds of other students. Still there was more to this city than just the chocolate shop and the taverns. The pale, blonde Slytherin strode away from the main road in town and followed a lesser travelled path away from all of the noise. He followed the path until the Shrieking Shack finally came into view, an imposing structure that looked as dark as its mythical history said it was. At least here it was quiet; on first glance he didn’t actually see anyone else in the area. But a noise caught his attention; the flutter of paper, like the turn of the page of a book. Draco turned at the noise and noticed, for the first time, a girl reading a book on a tree stump. How he had missed her before when he’d surveyed the scene was beyond him, but he didn’t dwell on the thought either. Maybe he wasn’t going to get his peace and quiet after all. He sighed heavily and glared at her, saying nothing, as though she was the one disturbing his peace instead of the other way around.
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Magnolia Moon
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'A half-thought has been buzzing often in my brain, but I fear to let him loose his wings. Here now, with more knowledge, I go back to where that half-thought come from, and I find that he be no half-thought at all; that be a whole thought, though so young that he is not yet strong to use his little wings.' Her lips moved along with the words on the page, tracing them, as if they were her own, as if she could speak them, and make them true. She always read like this. Sometimes she whispered the text, instead of just mouthing it silently. But that typically made her scared that someone would come along without her noticing them, and over hear her. They'd think she was a madwoman. Which she wasn't, of course. She was perfectly sane and sensible. And anyone who said otherwise was obviously barmy themselves. There was no one more normal and boring that Maggie. She always made sure of it.

Her finger paused it's underlining of the words as she read them, and her lips froze mid-sentence. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up very suddenly, and she tensed. There is a very distinct feeling one gets, when one feels they are being watched. She had that feeling now, her heart thumping against her rib cage twice as hard as usual, and her eyes growing very wide, suddenly not able to take in any of the words on the page in front of her. She'd have liked to pretend that she hadn't noticed, and just keep reading, minding her own business. But it was impossible when she felt such a distinct surge of animosity towards her. She couldn't imagine who would dislike her. Most people didn't know she existed, and she made it a point to always be perfectly polite and not to offend people. And yet she felt like someone was very much disliking her at this point in time. She peeked up, hazel eyes fluttering and hidden behind her straight-across bangs.

How very odd. Draco Malfoy. She was almost positive that she'd never once said so much as a single word to the boy(Other than the occasional: pardon me, or sorry), and yet he was clearly glaring at her as if she'd caused him some personal offense, or spat on him. Or some other sort of rude, uncharacteristic action. Which she certainly never had. She avoided him at all costs, honestly. He was one of those trouble-magnets that she was always so careful to not hang around. She jumped up off the stump, slamming her book closed and clutching it to her chest, pale cheeks growing red with embarrassment. "S-Sorry." She muttered quietly, in her soft not-often-used voice, eyes glued to her feet. And not really sure what she was apologizing for. She had obviously angered him, by the way he was glaring. She simply couldn't remember exactly what she had ever done that had concerned him in any way, shape, or form. Maybe she got better marks then him of a paper? How he would know, she wasn't sure. But it seemed like a sensible reason.

Magnolia twisted the toe of her left shoe into the ground, eyes refusing to look up and meet his, book still held tightly to her chest. She felt very silly, and even more stupid than usual. She always did feel stupid when confronted with social interaction. It has never been, was not, and never would be one of her strong points, and was certainly not something she enjoyed engaging in. The whole idea of talking was hard for her. She could think things quite well, and read them fine. It was when the time to talk came around that she had difficulty. The words never wanted to leave. She blamed herself, really. She liked words too much, and quiet too, she liked. So the words clung to her tongue and stuck to the inside of here mouth, until she could pry them out, and force them into being. Talking was a constant mental wrestling match.
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