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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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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!

Remember Me
March 19th, 1888 — Hogwarts Courtyard
Ever since the death of their father in 1885, Frida had no longer had the displeasure of seeing her elder brother on a regular basis. For all that she thought he was scary, she had an odd desire to affirm that he still cared about her — or Merlin, that he even remembered what she looked like! He'd never been an attentive brother, she knew, but she hated the thought that he just didn't care. A long day of studying had left Frida sitting by herself in the courtyard, but the sight of her brother was quick to shake her out of her daze.

She tentatively stood up, watching him for a solid ten seconds, before puttering towards him. "Hello, brother!" she called, trying to rid of any signs of wariness. "It's - um - it's been such a long time since we've talked," she continued once she reached his side. Her voice was soft — uncertain — as she looked up at his much-taller self.

@Kristoffer Lestrange
Kristoffer had spent the last half hour idly playing Pin-the-Quill with some friends of his; Pin-the-Quill on unsuspecting first years, more specifically. This involved subtly attaching the quill to a student's back, nesting the sharp nib into the fabric of their robes or cloak. The quill then became a target, a signal of sorts, pointing out the next victim at whom the rest of them would (covertly) shoot hexes as they tried to make it to the other end of the corridor.

A professor had eventually come along, however, which had seen the sixth-years quickly disperse. Kristoffer had sidled out into the courtyard, affecting a yawn and pulling his shoulders back to emphasise the sight of his prefect badge in the faint Scottish sun, as though he were a paragon of good behaviour.

Kris was so occupied doing that that he hadn't heard his sister calling, and so all of a sudden he found the Hufflepuff at his side. He gave Frida a nonplussed look at her conversation opener, squinting at her in near disbelief. It had been a long time since they had talked: well, yes, of course it had. That was surely the arrangement that best suited them both. Kristoffer had no problem with it.

"Well, what do you want?" He returned - neutrally enough. He was certain there had to be some reason for Frida coming up to him at all. Mortifying as he found it - and unlikely as he was to grant any demands - he supposed it was also rather impressive that she had dared to do so, especially in the middle of the courtyard where other people might see them. Maybe she'd finally grown some balls.

Alright, this wasn't going too bad. He hadn't yelled at her, nor had he waved her off without a second thought. A neutral expression was probably best; a smile (or anything of that nature) would have likely made her worry. Kristoffer never smiled at her unless he was about to do something. She tried not to let her own smile falter, but just looking up at him was intimidating enough to lower her head ever-so-slightly.

"I wanted to make sure that you were... well, I guess," she offered pathetically. Kristoffer never came off as unwell, but he'd always seemed unwell in the brain closed off and closeted when she was around. She'd always been taught that Lestranges were loyal to no one except other Lestranges; Kristoffer, on the other hand, either didn't follow that mantra or had avoided them for a reason.

"Well," she added abruptly, changing both her tone to a more solid, certain one after a moment of unsure silence. "I didn't see you much — almost at all, really — during the holidays. You've grown, you know," she continued, trying her best to give off an air of confidence that was certainly fabricated.
Kristoffer raised an eyebrow. She wanted to make sure that he was well.

Your concern is noted, he nearly said, a disparaging end to a conversation he couldn't quite believe she had bothered with. Of course he was well! When wasn't he well? Of all his siblings, Frida would be the one he'd be most concerned about struggling through life, if his brotherly concern was faintly conceivable at all.

But then she'd continued, a little more confidently, sounding almost fond. Having sisters was like having a pet, Kristoffer supposed: needy, weren't they? Just liked to be sure you remembered they existed. Reluctant as he was to acknowledge Frida's interest any more than necessary, perhaps Kris also had something of a domestic animal in him, since he was supremely susceptible to having his ego stroked. He had grown, she'd said!

"I have, haven't I?" He replied, smirking at that as he straightened up to better emphasise the growth spurt he'd gone through, all the advantages of puberty. He'd gotten taller, and more manly, and more handsome - it was gratifying to see that people had noticed, even only one of his sisters.

He eyed Frida, surveying her for a moment before he returned, matter-of-factly: "You haven't."

[-] The following 1 user Likes Kristoffer Lestrange's post:
   Bella Scrimgeour

Frida would have normally rolled her eyes, but her relationship with her brother wasn't like the relationship most sisters had with their brothers — playful. Theirs was one of basic acknowledgment if she was feeling luckily, and other times people would learn they were siblings in casual conversation and be amazed. It was sad, really, but she'd grown used to it!

"I've grown," she responded somewhat defensively. "Maybe only an inch or two, but girls aren't supposed to be tall, right?" she asked, looking up at his tall self. Most ladies didn't bypass five feet, two inches tall, and she's just reached five feet herself! Girls any taller than Seneca (who had to be at least five feet, four inches tall) were abnormal and strange. She couldn't imagine almost reaching the height of a man.
In honesty, Kristoffer doubted whether he'd have noticed if she'd grown or not, so he'd take her word for it. Less impressive than his growth spurt, anyway: he played quidditch, and things, his stature mattered.

"I don't know," Kris replied - girls aren't supposed to be tall; it might have been an easy statement to agree with, but he wasn't interested in giving the impression that he wasted even a second thinking about dumb female affairs, and hypocritically he especially didn't like Frida's habit of asking for affirmation. It just made her sound like she wasn't sure of anything.

"You're still shorter than Seneca," he pointed out dismissively, as his only contribution to this conversation. Not that Seneca was his favourite relative - no, he enjoyed winding her up as he did all his sisters - but he felt as though he saw her more than any of his sisters, at Lucius' house in the holidays on top of at the Slytherin table or common room most days.

Kristoffer definitely sounded like he didn't want to speak to her, but unlike with Seneca, she wasn't going to back down immediately. She never saw Kristoffer anymore, and they were still brother and sister! He had to think about her sometimes — and not just about how embarrassing she was. Brothers were ingrained with love for their sisters, right? And she'd never really did one specific thing to change that, right? Right.

"You wouldn't want me to be as tall as Seneca. She's almost as tall as you," she pointed out with her brows raised. "It's better if your sisters are short, lest they make you look shorter than you are. You might have to worry about Meta in a few years, though; she's very tall for a first year."

She... had a point there. Not that he was going to say it. With any luck, Seneca had stopped growing (although, surely she'd be able to change her height if she tried hard enough, as a metamorphmagus). The last thing he wanted to look was short.

Absently, Kristoffer wondered if he could charm himself to be taller. Or even broader in the shoulders, or magic himself stronger - though that would probably count as cheating in quidditch. Hmm.

Frida's mention of their other sister dragged him out of his own self-absorbed thoughts though, and he peered at Frida more properly now. "When don't I worry about Meta?" He said darkly, not talking about her height, or even her wellbeing - just her, and the fact she had been sorted into Gryffindor. It was having a profoundly bad effect on Meta, who he'd sworn had used to be his favourite sister. "And here I thought Hufflepuff was bad," he added pointedly (which he supposed was a compliment to Frida as much as it was an insult).

[-] The following 1 user Likes Kristoffer Lestrange's post:
   Bella Scrimgeour

There were many ways to deal with Kristoffer Lestrange, and most of them involved some variant of keeping a distance and not contradicting him when he had his mind set on something — even if that something was as silly and self-absorbed as height. At least Frida thought he was talking about Meta's height, until she latched onto the dark, almost resentful tone.

Frida had never considered Kristoffer to have that much depth to him, assuming his thoughts were always occupied by normal things for boys his age: quidditch, his ambitions, etc. His tone, however, suggestion he kept some bitterness buried deep within his heart (if he had one to begin with, but Frida didn't considering that).

"Well I think it's good she's getting her independence. Better than to be—" She cut herself off immediately, realizing that she was about to insinuate that being molded like Gretchen was a bad thing. Frida didn't know very much about Kris' true opinions on each of his three sisters, but she'd only assumed Gretchen — as the Slytherin of the three — was his favorite. "Better than to be someone she's not," she finally added lamely.
[-] The following 1 user Likes Frida Lestrange's post:
   Kristoffer Lestrange
Frida was disagreeing with him, about Meta. Well, she would, wouldn't she? he thought first, but a moment later he couldn't even tell whether he was annoyed or not that she wasn't seeing eye to eye on this. If she was right, he supposed he might even be relieved.

That said, when was Frida ever right? Hufflepuffs weren't known for their brains. "So you don't think mixing with hotheads and mudbloods is going to mess her up?" Kris countered sceptically, folding his arms as he thought about it. Why should Meta need independence? Why couldn't she just follow in her brother's footsteps, like he had always expected she would? (And not be a fucking public embarrassment.)  

"How's it working out for you," he added - a little, but not entirely, derisively - as he returned to scrutinising Frida in the general bemusement he always had for her, "being yourself, in Hufflepuff?" Surely she hadn't made many friends in that bunch. Could she truly say she liked being known as the runt of the family? (Had she always been as soft as she was, or had Hufflepuff exacerbated her worst qualities? Kristoffer had never paid her enough attention to be certain.)

Frida thought Kristoffer’s evaluation of the situation was unfair to say the least. She hadn’t seen any qualities in Meta that hadn’t always been there, as much as the family had tried to ignore them. Her house didn’t change who she was — it brought out the person she always was. She knew Meta had always had a bone to pick with the Greta and the other stuffy sorta, and in hindsight, Gryffindor was the perfect place for her to become the best Meta she could be!

At least that was her take on things.

Meta has always been a hothead, Kristoffer,” she pointed out with a daring raise of her brows. “In fact, she almost set our bedroom on fire after learning incendio the summer before she began Hogwarts. She’s not different than she’s always been.

As for herself, Frida had no comment. She’d long learned to accept her house as her own, but it was still a touchy subject when her own family members subjected her to interrogation about it.

I have friends,” she replied, a bit too defensively than she’d intended to.
He supposed he ought to be relieved that Frida had some nerve in her, to be talking so boldly about this; but, since she'd only bothered to show it in arguing with him, Kris couldn't exactly enjoy the revelation.

He gritted his teeth unwillingly, annoyed by the facts that she was laying out, and just as annoyed at the fact he'd never bothered to consider the possibility that this would happen, with Meta. He should have taken more care to mould her after himself, instilled some sense of pride and cunning in her. They didn't have parents any more to do these things, Kristoffer remembered with an involuntary pang (and fat lot of good Uncle Priam would do with the girls), so, much as this went against his preferred state of ignoring them all, maybe he should... be taking more of an interest in his sisters. They might be in the wrong houses and the wrong mindset about a good many things, but they weren't yet lost causes.

Or were they? He peered cynically at Frida, especially at her last remark. "Do you?" Kristoffer snapped, still nettled about the Meta thing. "Well, where are they?" He said, glancing around exaggeratedly as if to ask why she was trotting after him like a stray puppy instead of hanging out with whoever they were. (No one to be proud of, no doubt.)

Nerve, perhaps, wasn't the best terminology used to describe her; it was more of a lack of sense that allowed her to continue pestering her brother with defensive remarks and light bickering. At least in the case of Meta, defensiveness was probably the best word to use — their Gryffindor of a sister wasn't here to defend herself, and as the only other non-Slytherin sibling in their family, Frida felt it was her duty to stand up for her.

"They're... somewhere," she managed, her head lowering to avoid the (antagonistic, as she assumed) gaze of her elder brother. She didn't really want to fight with him, yet he went on the attack during every exchange. Was he really so displeased with her evaluation — or even her as a person — that he would snap at her for seemingly nothing?

(Yes, of course he would, because this was Kristoffer.)

"They're probably studying for exams. I- I've already studied today," she offered as her only explanation.
Somewhere. Kristoffer snorted. Hiding from her and her insufferable ways, no doubt.

He raised his eyebrows at her comment about already having studied, as a silent comment to say and you really think that's enough? Hufflepuffs needed all the practice they could get.

He looked at her a moment more. "Well, maybe you should go badger them instead of me. I've got better things to do than study." And better things did most emphatically not include indulging his sister's every whim and opinion. He'd heard plenty from her to last him a month. Or two. 'Til the end of term?

(Maybe he'd consider taking an interest in his sisters next year, when Frida might have learned to be marginally less annoying. Maybe.)

Her brother had made his message perfectly clear: he wanted her to scurry off and leave him be. Though her face slipped into a frown momentarily, she quickly recovered and offered him a nod in understanding. She had no desire to anger him, especially when it was apparent that she was becoming bothersome.

"Well," she said, taking a single peek at him while she straightened out her robes. "I'm always one note away. Or near the kitchens...?" She didn't wait for him to respond, though; catching glimpse of a familiar face from behind one of the columns, Frida offered her brother one final wave and wandered off passed him.

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