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)
Featured Adoptable

Brigit Langley for Fletcher Langley.
The Matchmaking Menace
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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Featured Stamp
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!

Back From the Edge
There wasn't a response he could have given her that would have frustrated her more. This time it was her own lip she bit down on as she to keep her cool. It was probably still too soon to be belligerent, he might just try to send her back to the forest or kill her right there. There had to be something she could do to hasten her reunion with her wand.

"That'll take weeks." She refused to live like a muggle for even one week. If it really came down to it then she'd damn well try to teach herself wandless magic just to spite him but that would probably be a lot of effort for minimal gain. "There must be something I..." Before she could finish her sentence in such a way that would sound too close to begging, she fell silent and instead raised her left hand, thrusting it towards him and holding it there in a way she hadn't since their wedding day, albeit a great deal more rigidly.

The fact that it would take weeks to prove she was capable of behaving herself as a wife was sort of the point. He'd just threatened to murder her in the woods; she might have said anything to convince him to spare her. He needed to know that she was going to follow through with what she had said, not take her wand and run off into the woods again — or worse, try to find a way to incapacitate him. He wasn't sure exactly how her Unbreakable Vow would respond to his death, but if she could cripple him to the point where he wasn't able to draw his wand to kill her — well, she'd be more or less free to do as she pleased, and he'd be powerless to stop her.

Tiberius raised an eyebrow as she held out her hand, her bare finger prominent. He could see the line on her skin from where the ring had been sitting for years.

This was a good start, he supposed.

"Accio Antigone's ring," he muttered, reaching down to brush his fingers against his pocketed wand. It flew from his armoire to his hand, where he replaced it on hers. "It's been cleaned," he pointed out. "It was filthy."
"Presumptuous of you to think I'd be back for it." She didn't doubt he'd only had it cleaned for her funeral but it pleased her to tease him for it anyway. She chose to ignore the mention of its cleanliness or lack thereof.

Once it was back on her finger she inspected it dubiously. His mention of having it clean made her realize that he could have done any number of things to it while it was in his possession aside from cleaning it, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd given her a ring without mentioning it was cursed. He couldn't have been sure she'd ever get the chance to wear it again though so it was also possible he hadn't bothered. "Cleaning had better be all you've done to it." If he hadn't then it was an opportunity he'd lost and she wouldn't give it up to him freely again.

She wanted to continue pressing him about her wand but could think of no way she might be able to negotiate it from him, what bargaining chips did she have left? She supposed she could find ways to make do in the time being, ways he probably wouldn't approve of but he hadn't prohibited her from using magic, he was only withholding access to her wand.

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