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 ( Submit your own)
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Questionable Friend/Crush for Philip Aymslowe.
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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Post 3+ times in three or more class threads during the course of a school year. Must all be done with the same character, be they a professor, student, or school portrait or ghost!

Zeroed the Hero
December 23rd, 1888

Evaine had been holed up in her quarters for the better part of the weekend, until Arthur decided to go out with some coworkers for the evening. Miracle of miracles, she was suddenly able to rise from her coughing, moaning pile of certain death after she rang for bunt cake and chucked a cup of herbal tea at the maid’s head because it was spearmint instead of peppermint.

Smoothing out her evening gown and fixing up her hair, she began her patrol leisurely walk through the house.

There was a heart-warming peal of laughter coming from the nursery... and it wasn’t Evaine’s doing.

She saw red.

Squaring her shoulders, she slid quietly into the doorway and crossed her arms, wand in hand.
Lynette was sitting on the floor in front of her baby brother, chuckling and the infant screeched and laughed and tried to clap its fat baby hands. The girl was playing with the child's toys, making them talk to him in a deep or extremely high voice, and sometimes making one disappear (by quickly putting it behind her back) only to make it appear again the next moment. Whenever it did, the little boy let out the breath he had been holding and screeched with joy and Lynette would laugh. She loved her baby brother. His mother frightened her - much as Lynette tried to love her - but she could not but done over the baby. He had blond angelic curls, big blue eyes, chubby cheeks and a rather fat body. He was well-looked after by his over-protective mother, his very proud father, and Linnet whenever she got a chance.
"Beeeep!" She made a wooden dog toy say, and the baby cried with laughter. Then he looked up at the door and held up his arms. Lynette turned and followed his gaze, unable to help feeling nervous when she saw her stepmother.
"Good afternoon, mama." she said, quickly standing up and straightening her skirt.
Evaine cast a simpering, tight-lipped smile down at Lynette.

“I just got him to sleep,”
she sighed with a wistful smile. “No matter. Children will be children!”

She strolled over between Lynette and Gareth, corsetted back straight and hands poised on her wand the way she often held her parasol in public. She crouched down in a dramatic flurry of skirts, looking over the toys with a mischievous smile.

“Everything’s more fun with magic!”

Magic Lynette was not allowed to use outside of school.

She enchanted a dinosaur toy, and it started doing an awkward, short-armed jig.
Lynette scurried back as her stepmother approached, so that it was easy for her to get in between the girl and her child. Much as Lynette wanted to love and trust the woman, there was something about her that always frightened her. Things tended to end badly for her, when her stepmother was around, and yet it was never intentional. Or so it seemed. There was a part of Lynette that believed it was intentional, and yet it was so difficult to point out. She was about to excuse herself when her stepmother addressed her and she gave a faint smile. "I suppose so, mama, but I'm not allowed to use magic," she said, almost inaudibly. She wanted to go, but for some reason, she dared not move, afraid the woman would find fault with her if she did.
Funny how ‘mama’ sounded so close to ‘ma’am’. No daughter of hers was half her age, the little future harlot!

Ugh. She hoped her husband got Killing Cursed before her childbearing years were gone. Maybe the next would be better in bed – it was a wonder they conceived at all!

“It is only right,”
Evaine agreed with a big, big smile. “The Ministry would not want you hurting yourself.”

The dancing dinosaur did a pivot on its heel, capsized, and then twisted its leg at an unnatural looking angle to right itself once more.

“Or others!”

And then the wooden dinosaur started stomping the wooden dog, Evaine's gaze and smile unwavering from Lynette.
Lynette felt cold all of a sudden, and rather nauseous, as she watched Gareth's toys attacking each other. "I... I think you might be upsetting Gareth, mama." she said, before thinking. It was certainly upsetting her a good deal, and she could not see how such violence could have a good influence on her baby brother.

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