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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 ( Submit your own)
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When your mum thinks you're gay for your best friend (but you probably are)
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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Didn't Get The Memo
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February 11th, 1889 — Ministry Break Room

"I know the Ministry's been testing alternatives to owls," Peony said, brows knitted together in concern as she watched the four memos - all clearly addressed to different recipients - circle each other as if preparing to brawl. "but giving them an ounce of consciousness doesn't seem to be working."

Having a group of charm experts experiment with self-sending memos might seem more economical than keeping an extra handful of janitors whose sole purpose was to clean owl droppings, but Peony personally feared more resources would be wasted having to clean up a mess caused by important memos shredding themselves.

"Hopefully they thought to use fake memos. I don't think these ones will make it out of the room," she said dryly, casting a doubtful glance towards her companion in the break room. Before she even completed the sentence, one of the memos had lunged at another, sending it floating to the floor.

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Chester was only half listening to the woman talking about the new enchanted memos that were being tested by some of the Ministry’s charms experts. Truthfully, Chester saw no reason that anything needed to be changed; owls worked fine.

And he was more than content with letting this woman waffle on whilst he read the days prophet. That was, at least, until he felt her eyes burning against him as if she wanted him to pipe up and say something. So, and with a great amount of annoyance, he folded the paper in half and rested it – rather passive-aggressively – on his lap.

He was about to politely tell her that he didn’t care when a brawl between three pieces of parchment broke out and shredded bits of material were thrown over the table.

“That doesn’t seem intended,” Chester scoffed a little, “Surely you wouldn’t want them to be like feral rats?”

#3
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Peony made no attempt to hide the dramatic eye-roll she gave in response to the gentleman's reaction. He was the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes; why he would have absolutely no interest in the experimental memos was beyond her. If something went wrong, he'd be responsible for finding a solution.

"Well of course it wasn't," she replied, a little snappier than intended. "If you'd been watching for the last five minutes you'd have noticed it sooner," she added, her gaze on the lone memo danced across the table in triumph against the now-shredded pieces of parchment.



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