In this house of broken things
Everyone could use some help
Monday, April 17 || Afternoon
Unbelievably, unexpectedly — it had been a quiet week. All that worry, and nothing. Remus had slept without interruption the past few days for the first time in months.
Perhaps the werewolf had seen them resetting the wards after all, and had moved along.
Lupin didn't think so, however. And judging from what Bill was saying, he agreed.
A note materializing on Remus' desktop halted their pessimistic musings.
"The staff's been summoned to an emergency meeting." Lupin looked up. "Want to bet our furry friend's involved? Let's go."
Tuesday, March 21~~Early Morning
Hermione hadn't slept well. She was a bundle of nerves, and on top of that, everytime she tried to close her eyes the previous night's events ran through her head making her ill. Those eyes-- she could maybe, someday, forget the fangs, but something about those eyes. What bothered her most, though, was the possibility. The possibility of what it could mean if it had been real and not imagined; if it was a true symbol of what was to come. She needed an expert.
With some reluctance, she knocked on Firenze's door.
To the Winner Goes the Spoils
Saturday, January 21st ~ Evening
"Good evening, wonderful match wasn't it? Very close, very close." If you could call his Slytherin's losing by over 250 points close, but Horace Slughorn wasn't going to let a loss ruin his spirits. At least not where there were witnesses.
Having Izabel serve as his personal waitstaff at the staff meetings would have been the sweetest of victories. He could almost hear her distinctive voice asking if he wanted sugar with his cuppa and - A biscuit would be lovely, thank you, my dear.
Instead his own personal stock of fine liqueurs was about to be ravished by these... people.
"Izabel, my dear, when we discussed using my fine wines and spirits as after-party refreshments by way of my forfeit - surely you didn't mean all of them, did you?"