Did you know?

The Language of the Flowers was a popular method to express feelings where words might be improper, but did you know other means of doing so? Some ladies used their parasols, as well as their fans, gloves, and hankies to flirt with a gentleman (or alternatively, tell them to shove it!). — Bree

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Iola Hitchens for Elladora Black. The Blacks' black sheep.
This boy, then. He wasn't new. Wasn't one of the worst people in the common room, those rotten rich boys - like Mr. Jailkeeper - who could not fathom a world beyond their own farts. Was a good working class lad, so he'd heard. Had a bit of a weird looking face, and a bit of a weird thing for preaching. Still.

Aubrey Davis in The Under-Sofa

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Post at least once with the same character every day for a month.


King of the Clouds
12th January, 1889 — Slytherin Common Room
Well, this had been one of the most entertaining weeks of his life. It was endlessly gratifying to stroll down the corridors and see students with tears streaming down their faces, dirty looks and dark whispers spreading through school like a plague, and know that he had played that hand. And what an ace it was.

Miss Farley had said some bad things about him, like almost everyone else (...he wasn't sure how Miss Borgin would feel, if she found out he had knowingly brought a new unflattering nickname down upon her), but Kristoffer had also noticed that the diary had included proof that he was terrifically handsome, which was of course one that deserved to be publicised. And that that opinion had come from his own common room.

Kristoffer hadn't seen her for more than a few moments this week, young Miss Brown. (She seemed to be avoiding plenty of people, now, ha.) But she looked too absorbed in something this morning to have noticed she was not alone in the common room, yet, and so Kris took his chance.

"Good morning, Miss Brown," Kristoffer said emphatically, fashioning his face into a ridiculous expression of innocence as he perched himself on the arm of her chair without asking. Oh, she would know that he knew.

[post]Monet had barely managed to survive the first week back from vacation. Not because classes had been hard but because of the damned journal that had been spread everywhere. She'd failed in her mission of avoiding the majority of the boys in her house already. Eldin and Kristoffer had been her main choices to avoid and she'd managed to stay clear of Kris but she knew her luck was bound to change. If he'd seen it, she knew he'd track her down eventually like it or not. And how she was going to deal with it, she still wasn't sure.

Luckily, she'd done well enough so far and with it being Saturday morning, she expected for the day to go rather smoothly. She'd gotten up early enough to finish a bit of homework in the quiet of the common rooms. It didn't seem as though the majority of her house were known for being early risers so she at least had that on her side. She'd been so focused on her History of Magic reading that she hadn't been aware she was no longer alone in the room. Not until he spoke.

Her face all but drained of color in a moment when she felt him sit on the arm of the chair she had been curled up in. The color was quick to come back in the way of bright red cheeks as the tone registered in her mind. She'd already told herself she wouldn't be the silent type with him anymore but she was thoroughly caught off guard. She, however, didn't meet his gaze as she took in a deep breath. "Good morning, Mr. Lestrange," she repeated back to him, trying to put as much bravado into her voice as she could muster but still incapable of meeting his gaze.

[Image: MonetSig.gif]

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