She rolled over onto her back - face contorted with
an un-readable expression - groaned and the subaqueous rhythm
of breathing continued. Minutes later she switched to her
right side, habit pending, grabbed her miss matched comforter,
pulling it tightly to her chest. It was then that a pliant
smile touched her face. Finally, a more restful sleep befell
upon her.
An alarm clock cut through the silence as a skean
would do with alumina. She attempted to slam her fist onto
the snooze button - missing - tumbled from the bed, but not
before hitting her eye on the odd shaped oak table.
"Oww! Son-of-a..."
"Time to get up, Peony!" called her Mother's discordant voice.
Peony Eanthers mouthed, mockingly, 'Time to get up."
Pushing herself, resembling a push-up, she stumbled a bit -
making her way toward the screed bathroom.
"You don't want to miss the Express,"
She rubbed, then held her eye as she swept
through the doorway. Peony peered into the mirror at her
reflection - but it wasn't her flat, lifeless, dirty blonde
hair she cursed or even her round-pudgy face. It was the
ever swelling of the flesh around her orb that had just been
so rudely rubbed into an oak table.. She tentatively touched
the plume skin that was extremely tender. Peony hissed at her
own actions - it was slightly painful to even blink.
She stood meters back from Platform 9 3/4 with her
gangly Mother. Peony was batting at her Mother's hands, which
were trying to wipe her face with a lacey handkerchief. Her
Mother was a terrible clean-freak and thought that even a
speck of dirt on her face was a disgrace.
"Mom - not in front of everybody,"
She stopped and hugged Peony - quickly backing away
to straighten her own blouse and skirt. Peony struggled in
her robes - they were much too large for her and felt rather
itchy at the moment.
"Have good year. Did you foget your - your - that stick
contraption?"
She shook her head at her own parent's description
of such an important instrument to the wizardring world.
Peony took a deep breath and reminded herself that her mom
was only a Muggle and could not be expected to know everything.
"A wand, Mother - a wand," Peony bit off.
"Yes - yes, of course, a wand, dear. Well, I'm off,"
But, her Mother stopped her walking away and turned
back to her daughter.
"You know, sweetheart - you might think of loosing a little
weight while you're at school. That uniform is terribly
un-flattering"
Her Mother jogged off back toward her car and left
Peony standing alone - looking forlorn. She sighed and took
hold of her cart - in a slow trot she passed through the
barrier. Instantly, she saw groups of students socializing.
Peony smiled, briefly - she was almost there - she was more
content at Hogwarts than anywhere.
The smile disappeared as a body rammed into her.
She lurched down onto her knees and yelped in pain. Footsteps
passed her - she looked from her ungraceful looking position
and saw three of many people who she loathed, and they never
failed to make her life an inferno hell. Marcus Flint, Adrian
Pucey, and Sean Derrick.
"Watch it, Hufflepuff," sneered Flint, over his shoulder.
The other two laughed as Peony started to gather
some books knocked over onto the ground.
"Sorry," she mumbled, "I was taking in Oxygen here."
Flint stopped, abruptly - turned - walked toward
her, scowling. He stopped in front of her and kicked a
book she had just grasped - it slid to the train and
haulted as it neared the track. Peony kept her eyes
to the floor - she forced herself to ignore his presence -
impossible.
"You're taking in too much air, girl,"
Flint bent down and picked up her cage that held
her light brown owl. He hooted in protest and flapped his wings.
"What's this?" Flint asked as his friends made their
re-appearance at his side, "Pathetic little runt, wouldn't
you say boys?"
Pucey took the cage from him and started to ripple
it. Peony rushed to her feet to save her owl, but Flint
pushed her back - grabbing both of her arms and twisting
them, painfully behind her back. She struggled - he was
too strong. She was forced to watch Vlad tremble with
dementia ephialtes.
Suddenly, Pucey stopped his torture and eyed the
owl, detestedly. Vlad calmed - looked defunct.
"You know," drawled Derrick, "you would think a fat-ass
like her would be able to put her weight into getting away from you."
Peony winced at the comment at her size and
discontinued her struggling. She went limp and wanted
nothing more than to sink to her knees - tears that she
attempted to hold back slipped from her eyes and fled
forth onto her robes.
"Oh - look - a cry baby, too," Pucey added.
Flint leaned down - his lips pressed firmly onto
her ear. She hated the touch - she hated his respiration -
she loathed them all.
"Don't cry," he breathed, seductively - sending an acrimonious
chill throughout her entire body, "yet - we haven't done
anything tear-worthy - but we will."
Pucey grasped the handle on the cage, securely,
while Derrick held it. He opened the door, which tricely
sent Vlad into and even clangorous fit of wailing and
pertubation than before.
In a burst of surprise, Flint's tenacity was lost
and Peony was pushed forward - Pucey and Derrick simultaneously
dashed forward, knocking her out of the way. She turned and
gawked at the scene that lay before her. Flint was on the
ground, rubbing his mouth. And, very much to her surprise
and delight - Oliver Wood stood, looking menacingly, over Flint.
Pucey and Derrick pulled Flint up and they scurried
away - not before, each running their shoulders into Peony
as they passed her. She frowned and sighed. As she kneeled
to pick up the rest of her books and ownings - Oliver bent
down and assisted her in placing them back on the cart.
Peony stood - a blush rising to her cheeks.
She studied him as he walked to retrieve the book
that Flint had so casually punced from her hands. Peony
had long watched the Seventh year, Quidditch Captain, from
afar. And, that was as close as she enjoyed to come near
him - she devoted most of her time to studying, and even
then, most classes were barely passed. Peony had never
spoken to him - only snuck few glances from the Hufflepuff
table and brushed against him in hallways. Once - though
she believed that he had no recollection of the quick
event - he had stopped to pick up her books she had
lubberly dropped.
"Here,"
Peony shook her head - breaking from the reverie.
Oliver seemed perplexed, but a bemused smiled tugged at
the corners of his mouth. She timidly took the the book
from his hands, looking down - always down.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
Oliver leaned down - he didn't really recognize
the girl - but something vaguely familiar besmeared over
his mind. He eyes lingered on the bruise around her eye.
"Did they do that?" he blurted out.
Peony glanced up, quickly - she thought he would
be a bit more intelligent than that. But, the look of
concern - whether it was mock or not - she didn't really
care - made her feel just a bit debile.
"Oh," he recoiled, "a bruise wouldn't form that fast."
She regretted the thought before - he did hold some
concept of wisdom. Peony could almost kick herself for
having common mis-conceptions of others - though sometimes -
she was correct. She turned her back on him and began to
push the cart to be loaded on the train. Oliver merely
looked on, but then rushed to catch up with her.
"I can help you - you know, push it for you,"
"No,"
Peony walked on, leaving Oliver once more looking
ambiguitous. He had to know where he had seen her before
- his brain would not let him rest until he knew. He went
forth beside her once more, grabbing the cart, forcing her
to cease in brisk walk.
"Then, tell me where I've seen you before,"
She sighed, frustratively - looking up to his
face again - another blush incited from her. Peony with
upturned eyes - why would he choose this moment to take an
interest of her existence. She knew she was being curt -
but she didn't need the hurt - didn't need the rejection -
not now. She pried his attenuated fingers from the cart.
"We..."
Peony saw a Ravenclaw girl sneak her way up
behind Oliver. She clasped her hands over her eyes -
whispering loudly in his ear.
"Guess who?"
Oliver gently, pulled her hands off his face
and turned. He offered a grin, to which she giggled
at. Peony deviated ebony in the expression - backed
away, languorly, to not draw attention to herself.
It did not help - the Ravenclaw beauty raised an eyebrow
in her direction - loosing all interest in Oliver, for
the moment.
"What are you doing with - her?"
Peony looked down - though a strange thought
entered her contemplation. Today - she had recieved
a black eye from her table, a disrelishable encounter
with mauvis gout like Slytherins, but maybe - just
maybe, this could incident that was about to take
place could make her house proud.
"Well..." Oliver started.
Peony interrupted him sharply with a tight sarcasm.
"I tripped him,"
Both, Oliver and the girl stared at her - that was
most deffinately not what they were expecting.
"An accident, of course. But, you know - us Hufflepuffs,
being clumsy and all,"
Nothing was said - it couldn't be - Peony had dashed
off to have her things loaded. She had said something -
something that a scurrying scared Hufflepuff wouldn't ordinarily
utter. She wasn't proud with herself - in fact she felt guilty
at being so rude to the girl - Oliver.
Peony sighed as she sat down in a seat on the train -
window seat - to see the scenery, though she had beheld four
times, this would be the fifth. She saw Oliver wave good-bye
to the fair Ravenclaw and climb aboard. The chance to even
inhale his self existence would be - unprecedented - a chance
to be known as his would not be able to be cogitated. 'After
all," she lamented, 'I'm only a Hufflepuff."
an un-readable expression - groaned and the subaqueous rhythm
of breathing continued. Minutes later she switched to her
right side, habit pending, grabbed her miss matched comforter,
pulling it tightly to her chest. It was then that a pliant
smile touched her face. Finally, a more restful sleep befell
upon her.
An alarm clock cut through the silence as a skean
would do with alumina. She attempted to slam her fist onto
the snooze button - missing - tumbled from the bed, but not
before hitting her eye on the odd shaped oak table.
"Oww! Son-of-a..."
"Time to get up, Peony!" called her Mother's discordant voice.
Peony Eanthers mouthed, mockingly, 'Time to get up."
Pushing herself, resembling a push-up, she stumbled a bit -
making her way toward the screed bathroom.
"You don't want to miss the Express,"
She rubbed, then held her eye as she swept
through the doorway. Peony peered into the mirror at her
reflection - but it wasn't her flat, lifeless, dirty blonde
hair she cursed or even her round-pudgy face. It was the
ever swelling of the flesh around her orb that had just been
so rudely rubbed into an oak table.. She tentatively touched
the plume skin that was extremely tender. Peony hissed at her
own actions - it was slightly painful to even blink.
She stood meters back from Platform 9 3/4 with her
gangly Mother. Peony was batting at her Mother's hands, which
were trying to wipe her face with a lacey handkerchief. Her
Mother was a terrible clean-freak and thought that even a
speck of dirt on her face was a disgrace.
"Mom - not in front of everybody,"
She stopped and hugged Peony - quickly backing away
to straighten her own blouse and skirt. Peony struggled in
her robes - they were much too large for her and felt rather
itchy at the moment.
"Have good year. Did you foget your - your - that stick
contraption?"
She shook her head at her own parent's description
of such an important instrument to the wizardring world.
Peony took a deep breath and reminded herself that her mom
was only a Muggle and could not be expected to know everything.
"A wand, Mother - a wand," Peony bit off.
"Yes - yes, of course, a wand, dear. Well, I'm off,"
But, her Mother stopped her walking away and turned
back to her daughter.
"You know, sweetheart - you might think of loosing a little
weight while you're at school. That uniform is terribly
un-flattering"
Her Mother jogged off back toward her car and left
Peony standing alone - looking forlorn. She sighed and took
hold of her cart - in a slow trot she passed through the
barrier. Instantly, she saw groups of students socializing.
Peony smiled, briefly - she was almost there - she was more
content at Hogwarts than anywhere.
The smile disappeared as a body rammed into her.
She lurched down onto her knees and yelped in pain. Footsteps
passed her - she looked from her ungraceful looking position
and saw three of many people who she loathed, and they never
failed to make her life an inferno hell. Marcus Flint, Adrian
Pucey, and Sean Derrick.
"Watch it, Hufflepuff," sneered Flint, over his shoulder.
The other two laughed as Peony started to gather
some books knocked over onto the ground.
"Sorry," she mumbled, "I was taking in Oxygen here."
Flint stopped, abruptly - turned - walked toward
her, scowling. He stopped in front of her and kicked a
book she had just grasped - it slid to the train and
haulted as it neared the track. Peony kept her eyes
to the floor - she forced herself to ignore his presence -
impossible.
"You're taking in too much air, girl,"
Flint bent down and picked up her cage that held
her light brown owl. He hooted in protest and flapped his wings.
"What's this?" Flint asked as his friends made their
re-appearance at his side, "Pathetic little runt, wouldn't
you say boys?"
Pucey took the cage from him and started to ripple
it. Peony rushed to her feet to save her owl, but Flint
pushed her back - grabbing both of her arms and twisting
them, painfully behind her back. She struggled - he was
too strong. She was forced to watch Vlad tremble with
dementia ephialtes.
Suddenly, Pucey stopped his torture and eyed the
owl, detestedly. Vlad calmed - looked defunct.
"You know," drawled Derrick, "you would think a fat-ass
like her would be able to put her weight into getting away from you."
Peony winced at the comment at her size and
discontinued her struggling. She went limp and wanted
nothing more than to sink to her knees - tears that she
attempted to hold back slipped from her eyes and fled
forth onto her robes.
"Oh - look - a cry baby, too," Pucey added.
Flint leaned down - his lips pressed firmly onto
her ear. She hated the touch - she hated his respiration -
she loathed them all.
"Don't cry," he breathed, seductively - sending an acrimonious
chill throughout her entire body, "yet - we haven't done
anything tear-worthy - but we will."
Pucey grasped the handle on the cage, securely,
while Derrick held it. He opened the door, which tricely
sent Vlad into and even clangorous fit of wailing and
pertubation than before.
In a burst of surprise, Flint's tenacity was lost
and Peony was pushed forward - Pucey and Derrick simultaneously
dashed forward, knocking her out of the way. She turned and
gawked at the scene that lay before her. Flint was on the
ground, rubbing his mouth. And, very much to her surprise
and delight - Oliver Wood stood, looking menacingly, over Flint.
Pucey and Derrick pulled Flint up and they scurried
away - not before, each running their shoulders into Peony
as they passed her. She frowned and sighed. As she kneeled
to pick up the rest of her books and ownings - Oliver bent
down and assisted her in placing them back on the cart.
Peony stood - a blush rising to her cheeks.
She studied him as he walked to retrieve the book
that Flint had so casually punced from her hands. Peony
had long watched the Seventh year, Quidditch Captain, from
afar. And, that was as close as she enjoyed to come near
him - she devoted most of her time to studying, and even
then, most classes were barely passed. Peony had never
spoken to him - only snuck few glances from the Hufflepuff
table and brushed against him in hallways. Once - though
she believed that he had no recollection of the quick
event - he had stopped to pick up her books she had
lubberly dropped.
"Here,"
Peony shook her head - breaking from the reverie.
Oliver seemed perplexed, but a bemused smiled tugged at
the corners of his mouth. She timidly took the the book
from his hands, looking down - always down.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
Oliver leaned down - he didn't really recognize
the girl - but something vaguely familiar besmeared over
his mind. He eyes lingered on the bruise around her eye.
"Did they do that?" he blurted out.
Peony glanced up, quickly - she thought he would
be a bit more intelligent than that. But, the look of
concern - whether it was mock or not - she didn't really
care - made her feel just a bit debile.
"Oh," he recoiled, "a bruise wouldn't form that fast."
She regretted the thought before - he did hold some
concept of wisdom. Peony could almost kick herself for
having common mis-conceptions of others - though sometimes -
she was correct. She turned her back on him and began to
push the cart to be loaded on the train. Oliver merely
looked on, but then rushed to catch up with her.
"I can help you - you know, push it for you,"
"No,"
Peony walked on, leaving Oliver once more looking
ambiguitous. He had to know where he had seen her before
- his brain would not let him rest until he knew. He went
forth beside her once more, grabbing the cart, forcing her
to cease in brisk walk.
"Then, tell me where I've seen you before,"
She sighed, frustratively - looking up to his
face again - another blush incited from her. Peony with
upturned eyes - why would he choose this moment to take an
interest of her existence. She knew she was being curt -
but she didn't need the hurt - didn't need the rejection -
not now. She pried his attenuated fingers from the cart.
"We..."
Peony saw a Ravenclaw girl sneak her way up
behind Oliver. She clasped her hands over her eyes -
whispering loudly in his ear.
"Guess who?"
Oliver gently, pulled her hands off his face
and turned. He offered a grin, to which she giggled
at. Peony deviated ebony in the expression - backed
away, languorly, to not draw attention to herself.
It did not help - the Ravenclaw beauty raised an eyebrow
in her direction - loosing all interest in Oliver, for
the moment.
"What are you doing with - her?"
Peony looked down - though a strange thought
entered her contemplation. Today - she had recieved
a black eye from her table, a disrelishable encounter
with mauvis gout like Slytherins, but maybe - just
maybe, this could incident that was about to take
place could make her house proud.
"Well..." Oliver started.
Peony interrupted him sharply with a tight sarcasm.
"I tripped him,"
Both, Oliver and the girl stared at her - that was
most deffinately not what they were expecting.
"An accident, of course. But, you know - us Hufflepuffs,
being clumsy and all,"
Nothing was said - it couldn't be - Peony had dashed
off to have her things loaded. She had said something -
something that a scurrying scared Hufflepuff wouldn't ordinarily
utter. She wasn't proud with herself - in fact she felt guilty
at being so rude to the girl - Oliver.
Peony sighed as she sat down in a seat on the train -
window seat - to see the scenery, though she had beheld four
times, this would be the fifth. She saw Oliver wave good-bye
to the fair Ravenclaw and climb aboard. The chance to even
inhale his self existence would be - unprecedented - a chance
to be known as his would not be able to be cogitated. 'After
all," she lamented, 'I'm only a Hufflepuff."