Sorry about any spelling errors that may have occurred during the writing
of this. It is truly sad that my first language is English yet I cannot
spell its words to save my sad life. If it wasn't for spell check, you'd
be reading goble-di-gook. Be very happy.
~Bassoonfreak
Arthur storms about his chambers, cursing, "But Lucius is bound as well as I, in penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think for men so old as we to keep the peace."
"Of honorable reckoning are you both, and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long," Ginny comforts her father, "but now, my lord, what say you to my suit?" Her infatuation with Harry is swelling to an overwhelming peak. It seems that all she can talk or think about is Harry. Now she has gone to the extreme of trying to get her father to let her marry him. Unfortunately, Harry has come out to a select few people, Ginny not being among the number, that he is not interested in the opposite sex. It came as shock to Arthur, Ron, Molly, and many others, but they have gotten over it. Still, Molly has trouble being alone with Harry in the same room. Though she loves him, her religion will not let her truly except homosexuals.
"But saying o'ver what I have said before: Gin, you are yet a stranger in the world," he tries to change his daughters infatuated mind, "you hath not seen the change of fifteen years; let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think you fit to be a bride."
"Younger than I are happy mothers made," she pouts as she sits down heavily on one of the over stuffed chairs in the room.
Arthur shakes a finger at his youngest child and only daughter and says, "And too soon marred are those so early made. The earth hath swallowéd all my hopes but you; you are the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo him, gentle Ginny, get his heart; my will to his consent is but a part. An he agree, within his scope of choice lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustomed feast, whereto I have invited many a quest, such as I love; and you among the store," he kisses his daughter on the forehead, "one more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel when well-apparelled April on the heel of limping Winter treads, even such delight among fresh fennel buds shall you this night inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, and like his most whose merit most shall be; which, on more view of many, him, being one, may stand in number, through in reck'ning none. Come, go with me," he turns to a house elf cleaning the windows of his room and gives him a paper, " Go, sirrah, trudge about through fair old Hogwarts; find those persons out whose names are written there, and to them say, my house and welcome on their pleasure stay."
Arthur and Ginny walk out through the door to go out on a stroll together and talk some more leaving the confused house elf alone in the room. He looks over the list with a furrowed brow and sighs, "Find them out whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time!"
"Tut, man," Blaise sighs, still trying to turn Draco's affections away from Pansy, the current apple of his eye, "one fire burns out another's burning; one pain is less'ned by another's anguish; turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; take thou some new infection to they eye, and the rank poison of the old will die."
"Your plantain leaf is excellent for that," Draco snorts.
"For what, I pray thee?" Blaise asks.
Draco speeds up his pace and barks back, "For your broken shin."
"Why, Draco," Blaise says, annoyed that Draco can be so dismissive of others' presence, "art thou mad?"
"Not mad, but bound more than madman is; shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipped and tormented and," he notices a house elf tugging at his sleeve and says through gritted teeth, "god-den, house elf."
"God gi' go-den," the house elf squeaks, "I pray, sir, can you read?"
Draco shrugs, "Ay, If I know the letters and the language."
"Ye say honestly. Rest you merry."
"Stay, elf," Draco snaps, grabbing the paper from the elf, "I can read." He clears his throat and begin to read a list of names before saying with approval, "A fair assembly. Whither should they come?"
"Up," the house elf replies simply.
"Whither?" Draco asks again, "to supper?"
The house elf nods, "To our house."
"Whose house?"
"My master's."
"Indeed I should have asked you that before," Draco says.
"Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the rich in spirit Weasley; and if you be not of the house of Slytherins, I pray come and crush a cup of wine," he gives a deep bow, "Rest you merry."
Smiling madly, Blaise says to Draco, "At this same ancient feast of Gryffindoor's sups the fair Pansy whom thou so loves; with all the admiréd beauties of Hogwarts. Go thither, and with unattainted eye compare her face with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow."
" When the devout religion of mine eye maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; and these, who, often drowned, could never die," Draco shakes his head, "transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun."
"Tut!" exclaims Blaise exasperation, "you saw her fair, none else being by, herself poised with herself in either eye; but in that crystal scales let there be weighed your lady's love against some other maid that I will show you shining at this feast, and she shall scant show well that now seems best."
Sighing, Draco gives in, "I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, but to rejoice in splendor of my own.
~Bassoonfreak
Arthur storms about his chambers, cursing, "But Lucius is bound as well as I, in penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think for men so old as we to keep the peace."
"Of honorable reckoning are you both, and pity 'tis you lived at odds so long," Ginny comforts her father, "but now, my lord, what say you to my suit?" Her infatuation with Harry is swelling to an overwhelming peak. It seems that all she can talk or think about is Harry. Now she has gone to the extreme of trying to get her father to let her marry him. Unfortunately, Harry has come out to a select few people, Ginny not being among the number, that he is not interested in the opposite sex. It came as shock to Arthur, Ron, Molly, and many others, but they have gotten over it. Still, Molly has trouble being alone with Harry in the same room. Though she loves him, her religion will not let her truly except homosexuals.
"But saying o'ver what I have said before: Gin, you are yet a stranger in the world," he tries to change his daughters infatuated mind, "you hath not seen the change of fifteen years; let two more summers wither in their pride ere we may think you fit to be a bride."
"Younger than I are happy mothers made," she pouts as she sits down heavily on one of the over stuffed chairs in the room.
Arthur shakes a finger at his youngest child and only daughter and says, "And too soon marred are those so early made. The earth hath swallowéd all my hopes but you; you are the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo him, gentle Ginny, get his heart; my will to his consent is but a part. An he agree, within his scope of choice lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustomed feast, whereto I have invited many a quest, such as I love; and you among the store," he kisses his daughter on the forehead, "one more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel when well-apparelled April on the heel of limping Winter treads, even such delight among fresh fennel buds shall you this night inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, and like his most whose merit most shall be; which, on more view of many, him, being one, may stand in number, through in reck'ning none. Come, go with me," he turns to a house elf cleaning the windows of his room and gives him a paper, " Go, sirrah, trudge about through fair old Hogwarts; find those persons out whose names are written there, and to them say, my house and welcome on their pleasure stay."
Arthur and Ginny walk out through the door to go out on a stroll together and talk some more leaving the confused house elf alone in the room. He looks over the list with a furrowed brow and sighs, "Find them out whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time!"
"Tut, man," Blaise sighs, still trying to turn Draco's affections away from Pansy, the current apple of his eye, "one fire burns out another's burning; one pain is less'ned by another's anguish; turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; take thou some new infection to they eye, and the rank poison of the old will die."
"Your plantain leaf is excellent for that," Draco snorts.
"For what, I pray thee?" Blaise asks.
Draco speeds up his pace and barks back, "For your broken shin."
"Why, Draco," Blaise says, annoyed that Draco can be so dismissive of others' presence, "art thou mad?"
"Not mad, but bound more than madman is; shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipped and tormented and," he notices a house elf tugging at his sleeve and says through gritted teeth, "god-den, house elf."
"God gi' go-den," the house elf squeaks, "I pray, sir, can you read?"
Draco shrugs, "Ay, If I know the letters and the language."
"Ye say honestly. Rest you merry."
"Stay, elf," Draco snaps, grabbing the paper from the elf, "I can read." He clears his throat and begin to read a list of names before saying with approval, "A fair assembly. Whither should they come?"
"Up," the house elf replies simply.
"Whither?" Draco asks again, "to supper?"
The house elf nods, "To our house."
"Whose house?"
"My master's."
"Indeed I should have asked you that before," Draco says.
"Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the rich in spirit Weasley; and if you be not of the house of Slytherins, I pray come and crush a cup of wine," he gives a deep bow, "Rest you merry."
Smiling madly, Blaise says to Draco, "At this same ancient feast of Gryffindoor's sups the fair Pansy whom thou so loves; with all the admiréd beauties of Hogwarts. Go thither, and with unattainted eye compare her face with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow."
" When the devout religion of mine eye maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; and these, who, often drowned, could never die," Draco shakes his head, "transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun."
"Tut!" exclaims Blaise exasperation, "you saw her fair, none else being by, herself poised with herself in either eye; but in that crystal scales let there be weighed your lady's love against some other maid that I will show you shining at this feast, and she shall scant show well that now seems best."
Sighing, Draco gives in, "I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, but to rejoice in splendor of my own.
