“So,” concluded Donna, “what we have to figure out is the pathetic inner workings of the mind of a tiny, sensitive Ravenclaw girl. Do we know any of those?”

“None who are speaking to me at the moment,” said Sirius.

“Me neither,” Donna agreed.

They both turned to Marlene.

“What?” she asked. “Me?”

“You’re chummy with one, aren’t you?” asked Donna.

“No, I...” She broke off. “Oh, you cannot be serious...”

“I know your nerves. When it comes to it, you’re going to choke up. Ten galleons you don’t score one goal.”

Posting Lots of Excerpts, Aren't I? But they're short

“It’ll be rough on Potter and Shacklebolt,” Miles retorted. “What with having to score all the goals on their own.”

“I feel like this experiment is going to be dangerous for Shelley Mumps...” remarked Sirius.

-Chapter 33

First 33 Excerpt

“Well, if it were me,” began Marlene, “I’d like to find out by having one of my mates scheme to keep it a secret from me while I’m in the next room, but... oh wait...” 

 “Well in that case, you’re welcome,” retorted Donna coolly.

-Chapter 33

“Good evening, housemates,” Shelley’s voice cut through the brisk air. She had turned in her seat and, as though just noticing Lily and Carlotta, smiled broadly at them
 “Hello,” sighed Lily, probably anticipating an altercation.
 “Hello, Shelley,” said Carlotta. “What a pleasant surprise: I didn’t realize you could leave your coffin before sunset.”
 Shelley rolled her eyes, rising from her bench and climbing up to the higher level where her two housemates sat. Lily was immediately next to the wooden wall at the edge of the stand, meaning that the only available seat was beside Carlotta, who scooted closer to the redhead when Shelley sat down.

-Chapter 32

I was writing this scene and got extremely amused by the idea of redhead, brunette, and blonde sitting in a row--Carlotta and Shelley bickering and Lily just rolling her eyes wanting to die--during Quidditch tryouts. Lol so I drew it.

The Fat Lady—for that is whom he addressed—huffed. “It’s a matter of aesthetics, boy. Decorum. The dignity of these hallowed halls, through which your own forefathers, distant and recent, walked themselves, I’m certain...”

“My distant forefathers,” Sirius interrupted, “were, in all likelihood, muggle-hating chauvinists, if my more recent ones and the general habits of their contemporaries are anything to judge by. So I’ll smoke where I damn well please.”

“Well...” James swallowed. “What are you doing here?”

“I was exploring,” said Valentina. “But I’m not sure which floor I’m on.”

“The second.”

“The second,” Valentina echoed. “West Wing?”

“That’s right. Do you—er... live here?”

“No, I’m in the East Wing.”

“No, I mean...” Children were so dense sometimes. “Do you live in the castle?”

“We used to have fun, didn’t we?” asked Charlie, ignoring her question.

“No. We used to have angry sex.”

“That’s what I meant. What happened to that anyway?”

“You started to fancy me, and tentacles are a turn off."




(P.S. Chapter 32 features Charlie Plex POV--I'm not sure I've ever done that before =P)

Sirius grinned. “Alright, you pass. What’s your name again?”

“Clancy Goshawk.”

“And I’m...”

“Sirius Black,” she finished for him.

“I love when people do that,” remarked Sirius. “I feel famous."

I know I posted an excerpt this morning, but I just wrote this, and I thought you would all enjoy it....

“Can I help you, Laces?” 

 “What?” 

 “What-what?” 

 “Why did you just call me ‘Laces?’” 

 “Because yours are uncommonly straight.” 

4/27

“Mumps." 

 Shelley paused in the combing of her platinum fringe and looked at Donna in the reflection of the mirror. 

 “Yes?” 

 Never in recent memory had Donna dreaded an action quite as much as she dreaded this one. She sat down on the bed closest to Shelley, fidgeting with her curly hair and forcefully maintaining a complete lack of eye contact with the other witch. 

 “I have to talk to you.” 

 Shelley raised her eyebrows. “You what?” 

 “I have to talk to you,” Donna repeated forcibly. 

 Frowning, the blonde turned in her chair to face Donna. “Seriously?” 

 “Yes, I know, it’s bizarre for me, too,” said Donna, rolling her eyes.

Cheerful enough, Donna walked along the second floor corridor in the direction of the Charms department. The hallways were always the best kind of empty at hours like this—mealtimes—and Donna could stroll without fear of bumping into anyone, her mind occupied by pleasant things like Ancient Runes translations and the biography of Cornelius Agrippa that Lily had lent to her. 

 She was just debating which—the translations or the biography—she would pursue first after supper, when the unfortunate witch rounded a corner. 

 What she saw, about twenty feet away, made Donna think she might lose her lunch.

To the estimable Lily Evans,

I rather prefer not putting my name on the front of envelopes, as it often means that the recipient will disregard the letter altogether, and all of my extensive time spent writing and re-writing and fretting over the exact wording of my carefully plotted letter shall be in vain (Only joking. I don’t do any of that).

But now you’ve read this far, you’ve already spent this much time reading, and are therefore invested in the outcome of this note, so I shall reveal my identity.

It’s Sam. Sam Dearborn. Egbert the Incompetent’s brother. You remember me, right? Handsome bloke, tall, fantastic hair, kills in a fedora...

Right, that’s me.

And you’re Lily Evans.

What-ho.

And you’re probably wondering why in the name of all that is magical I’ve decided to write to you, approximately one month after our brief and tumultuous affair. The truth of the matter is that I’m bored stiff at the moment, for my best mate and partner-in-crime, the incomparable Sarah McKinnon, has landed herself in one of those new fangled thing-a-ma-bobs, a relationship.

Complete nonsense, if you ask me. (Not really: the bloke’s a dream, and he dotes on her, but that’s neither here nor there).

They’ve been seeing each other for months, but now Sarah up and decides that she’s in love with this Devil’s Spawn, and she spends five evenings a week with him, and she’s just oh so rapturous that poor Sam gets shoved to the side, along with all our plans to someday be old spinsters together, sitting around on a porch somewhere with our eighty-seven cats, playing sedate card games and making rude remarks at passersby, because old people may say whatever judgmental things they like without fear of punishment.

Obviously, this is a problem, because what if Sarah marries this bloke? What if she has a dozen children with him? I wouldn’t mind, except he’ll be something of a time suck, and it might actually mean I have to meet people! Talk to people I don’t know! Make new friends! SOCIALIZE!  It’s utter rubbish.

Actually, I’m just dead bored right now. I’ve written to dear cousin James twice in the last week, and he’s only responded once, and I choose to blame this on the fact that he is also relationshippy at the moment. I suppose you’ve heard all about that—well, I know you have—since, apparently your little school has done everything short of lynching this poor bird. Are you a member of this torch-carrying, “Burn the witch!” screaming majority? Personally, I think you’d make a lousy leader of a lynch mob.

I thought you’d be interested to know that I have had my first encounter with my brother since the end of his tenure as head of DMLE. It was unpleasant, to be sure, especially since the family rather sided with Eggie, and things at home have been rather tense. But life goes on, doesn’t it?

I’m reaching the end of my slight firewhiskey buzz and therefore the end of this letter, and I feel the overwhelming compulsion to be honest with you, Ginger, so here it is.

The truth of the matter is not that I am either lonely or bored, but that I am writing to you because I am avoiding writing a letter that I should be writing. You are a vehicle for my procrastination, if you will. Because, you see, while it is true that Sarah is in the raptures of a new relationshit, I find myself precariously close to the same. And there it is... I’ve met someone, and feel that if I do not wait out this firewhiskey buzz, I may actually do something extremely unwise and arrange a date.

You see, Ginger, in my brief tenure as a Hogwarts student, I was a Hufflepuff—as you know—and Hufflepuffs, for all of their virtues, are not particularly brave.

At any rate, feel free to respond poste-haste, and do not feel free to ignore this letter, or I will be thoroughly upset with you. Unless you, too, have fallen into the relationship trap, in which case, I shall have to lose faith with all of this highly sentimental humanity and jump off a tall bridge without a broomstick.

You understand my meaning, yeah?

With high regards from,

Sam Dearborn

Goodnight!

But before I depart, here's a teeny tiny excerpt.

"Who are you?”  

“Who am I? Who are you?” 

“I’m Valentina.”  

“I’m James.”   

“Oh.”   

She continued to stare at him with her large black eyes, and James continued to regard her with the utmost suspicion.   

Which was ridiculous, he realized, because she was about ten.

4/14

This post requires more music.
I'm thinking back to the times when I posted on blogspot every day (there was maybe one month where this happened) and feeling like I should be like that more often.
SO...
Here's another excerpt, because I'm too lazy to say anything brilliant.

“Donna.” Marlene poked her shoulder, and Donna started. 

 “What?” she asked loudly. “What? What do you want?” 

 “Is there a particular reason why you’re staring at Shelley Mumps like that?” asked Marlene, amused. Mary raised her eyebrows. 

 “Are you trying to make her explode with wandless magic?” she asked brightly. “Because I would fully support that decision.”

Love,
Jules

4/13

My current jam... although it's inspiring my original material muse more than my Chapter 32 muse. 

Still. Relevant. Ingrid Michaelson is both my Clancy Goshawk and Marlene Price muse. 

Aaaand a tiny excerpt:

James shrugged. “I guess.” He didn’t think he conveyed nonchalance very convincingly; Lily didn’t seem to buy it, at any rate. “I just... he shouldn’t have done it. It should have been Remus.”

“It couldn’t be Remus, James. You know that.”

He did. It was bloody unfair, but it couldn’t have been Remus. 

P.S. Random update: BOTH songs I want to use for the song title are too late. "I Want You To Want Me" is from 1977 and "Is She Really Going Out With Him" is from '78.
SIGH.
The struggles of being me.

Excerpt 4/6

“She’s really nice, too.”
 “Mmm.”
 “And pretty...”
 “Okay, you’re not being subtle, Lily.”
 Lily tried to look innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”
 “I mean, I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
 “What am I doing?”
 “You’re... implying.”
 Lily raised her eyebrows. “What am I implying?”
 “Something ridiculous and impossible and not even worth mentioning.”

3/9

“Lily Evans, you are a vision.”
 Sirius dropped into the vacant desk beside Lily’s, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t really mean it.
 “Good morning, Sirius.”
 “And how are you on this glorious dawning of a new day?”
 Lily shrugged. “Why aren’t you sitting with your mates?” She nodded vaguely towards James across the room, but did not quite look at the Head Boy, because he was holding Carlotta’s hand.
 “Meloni is disrupting my equilibrium,” replied Sirius casually.
 “Your equilibrium?”
 “My Zen, if you will.”
 “You have Zen?”
 “I am Zen.”
 “Do you know what ‘Zen’ is?”
 “Not anymore, I don’t. Carlotta disrupted it all away.”
 “Do you know what ‘disrupted’ is?”
 “Your nit-picking is doing a number on the little Zen I have left, Snitch.”
 “I thought Carlotta ‘disrupted it all away,’ and why did you call me a snitch?”

2/17

“Are you trying to get a shoe launched at your head, Meloni?” 
<>

“Well,” said Marlene, “I am quite brilliant.”

<>

“As the only here who has tried to off herself,” said Carlotta, “I think it might be a good idea.”

<>

“Well, we’ll have to catch up soon,” said Sabrina lightly. “So much to tell! Oh, did you hear?” She leaned confidentially forward. “Carlotta Meloni and James Potter.”

--

I am trying very hard not to just fall asleep, because I really want to finish Part II tonight. Part I and Part V are done. Part IV has maybe two scenes left.