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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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!

The Comical Economical
April 13th, 1889 — Diagon Alley
Arranging to meet with strangers hadn't gone well in the past, but Bella hoped that nothing could go too wrong (at least not with her wand within reach) during a simple economic transaction.

Bella did her best to remain inconspicuous on an alley corner while she waited for a Mr. Nimrod Gorey-Mueller — a strange man, she supposed, for having signed his full name when agreeing to meet with a woman who had no explained ties to dragons whatsoever. He hadn't even questioned her about her supplier when responding to her advertisement in the paper, instead writing a long, drawn-out letter about how he worked in the potions industry and was developing a potion that could tame a dragon — apparently by using materials made from their own dead, she reflected.

(She hoped he had a good sense of humor. He'd sounded funny enough.)

Nearly half an hour had passed by and Bella stood, head swaying from side-to-side while she counted the number of passersby who wore cloaks compared to jackets. Someone broke free from the crowd and approached her, causing Bella to straighten her back.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," she began, her eyes flickering from the stranger's shoe-covered toes to the tip of their nose, "but you don't look like a Mr. Nimrod Gorey-Mueller."

Post Log
Ben had thought this was a long shot to begin with, but following up on possible distributors was, actually, his job. No matter how far-fetched they sounded. Even if the name he'd been given as a contact was ridiculous, like Nimrod Gorey-Mueller. With a name like that, Ben was expecting the letter-writer to be a Germanic goblin — not Bella Scrimgeour.

He thought her presence here was a coincidence at first, and he'd loitered down the block waiting for her to leave. She wasn't leaving, though, and she was exactly where he was supposed to meet this mystery man. Worried that he'd miss the fellow if he waited any longer, Ben decided to approach. He did not expect to hear her use the name of the man he was waiting for.

"How astute of you to notice," he said, wondering what she had to do with the matter. "You don't look like him, either."
With her fathers eyesight beginning to go, Jamesina had taken over getting the supplies he needed. She had come across a man who had promised to give the same at a cheaper price. Well 'came across' wasn't quite the word for it since she had never met him. Which was going to change today since she didn't really like sending funds through owl. She had been told where to meet them but there was Bella Scrimgeour - a woman who had been an intern at St. Mungos once but had since... moved on to other endeavors and some other man. She wasn't actually sure who he was.

But from what she had heard as she approached neither was Nimrod but had obviously been expecting him. "So you both were expecting a man named Nimrod?" The chances that they were all here for new broommakers equipment felt rather minimal.
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   Ophelia Devine

“And after all this time, I'm still into you”
It had been a long time since Bella had crossed paths with Ben Crouch. Their parting had gone... less than smoothly, but he didn't approach her in what she'd describe as a 'confrontational' manner. She regarded him with suspicion, brows cocked and arms crossed across her chest.

"Of course I'm not him," she quipped, turning her attention on what he held in his hands. "Why are you here? Don't tell me you're selling dragon parts on the black market," she asked, sounding half-accusatory and half-disappointed in him. Even she, disgraced and unemployable by most, had found a way to sell dragon parts legally.

She opened her mouth to question him further — (why would Mr. Gorey-Mueller have them both meet here?) — but was interrupted by another familiar voice. Miss Jamesina Mcintrye. If this was some kind of joke designed to bring her past life back to haunt her, Mr. Gorey-Mueller had chosen an interesting selection of people...

"I'm can't speak for him," Bella responded, nodding in Ben's direction. "But I was. I guess you were, too."

Post Log
Ben frowned at her question regarding the black market. Coming from Art or one of his other friends, he might have taken the question at face value, because that was exactly the sort of thing he might find himself getting involved in if the opportunity arose. Coming from his brothers, he would have considered it a rhetorical jab; if he was involved in anything of the sort, they wouldn't want to hear about it. From someone with whom he had been acquainted with so briefly (albeit intensely), he considered it almost an insult.

"Why, is it lucrative?" he asked with a dry, sarcastic tone. He didn't get to respond any further, as at that moment they were approached by a fiery-haired young woman Ben didn't know. This was an interesting turn of events. Instead of assuming, as he had at first, that Miss Scrimgeour was somehow connected to this Nimrod fellow, Ben now thought it more likely that they had all been the victim of some sort of prank.

"Either he's very economical about his meeting times — and very diverse in his interests," Ben continued with a frown (as he did not imagine either of the women were here to peddle liquor for distribution). "Or we've all been had."

Hopefully getting a random group of people together and inconveniencing them was the worst of it — as far as pranks in the magical world went, that would be fairly mild. Ben wouldn't have been surprised, however, to find there was a part two to this little misadventure.

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