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Wash Away My Tears
April 6th, 1888, evening — Ravenclaw Tower

Holliday wanted to cry.

Correction: Holliday wanted to die.

She was already crying, soft quiet sobs shaking her thin body as her towel-clad body perched on the stool by the bathtub, a stool where her clothes were until the dastardly Peeves had stolen them away. Though the fourth year was no stranger to the poltergeist's schemes, this one was truly vile and the young witch was faced with the choice of going into the common room as good as naked or living in this room forever.

If she died, as she hoped, at least 'forever' wouldn't be particularly long.

She didn't know how long she sat there, though it felt as though an eternity. Holliday was a clever girl, one who did well in school and possessed a sunny disposition, but this was beginning to undo her. Matters, though, were swiftly made worse as a knock began at the door, gentle at first but growing quickly more persistent.

For April Challenge. I envision each common room has having 4-5 "tub rooms" off of it, separate from the privy. While Victorians didn't bathe as frequently as we do, there could still be 'traffic jams' as a result!

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Acacia had been having a rather nice day. Class had gone by nicely, with all of her class work done. She felt accomplished. Though this wasn’t a rare occurrence, she was looking on the bright side. Working hard on a regular basis, she couldn’t help but feel at ease at the end of the day from being productive.

Though sadly, the day did end up with a slightly sour turn. While working on homework in the common room, someone’s ink had been grabbed by the mischievous Peeves and he poured it all over her before she could even notice he was in the room. It seemed that the poltergeist had decided that it was the night for targeting Ravenclaws, for she had heard that other mischief had been happening all over the tower.

Normally she wouldn’t be pushy, but she had been knocking for a while, and the ink was starting to make her quite uncomfortable. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have ink all over me, and it is starting to get very uncomfortable.” She stated, flustered. Oh, she really hated to be so insistent.

Magic by MJ!

Use a spell! she wanted to shout back at the speaker—who, at least, was female, the tiniest of blessings. But to speak out would be to acknowledge her presence in the room, and to do that would be to draw attention to her current…circumstances. If she remained silent, Holliday reasoned, perhaps the other girl would go away. At the very least, remaining silent would keep her from having to explain what had happened to her.

Besides, there was no way she could relate her sad story without bursting once more into tears. The Ravenclaw already felt like enough of a sideshow as it was.

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After a few moments of waiting, concern started to fill Acacia's thoughts. Was this girl OK? Was she hurt? "Miss, are you alright in there?" She asked gently. After a minutes thought, she added, "Would you like me to send for the nurse, or the house matron?" At least they may know how to help, better than Acacia would.

OOC- I am so sorry for the late response.

Magic by MJ!

Not the nurse—that would only arouse suspicion—but there might be worse things than Mrs. Bennet coming to her aid. That would not solve her current sartorial woes, Holliday knew, but it might be a step in the right direction.

“P-Peeves stole my clothes,” she confessed softly, still crying, unsure if she would be heard through the door.

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The main concern that Acacia had was if the other girl was hurt. Was that the reason behind the crying? Perhaps she had slipped and was too embarrassed to admit that she had hurt herself, poor dear.

Upon, slightly, hearing the explanation from the fellow Ravenclaw, Acacia could feel a bit of tension easing away. Still, it was a dreadful thing to happen. "I could get some of my own clothes for you, just until you can get to your things to change into more properly fitting clothing." She offered. Although she would have offered to go get the girl's own clothes, she didn't know if they were even in the same year, or where the girl's belongings were. It would also be quite awkward to be going through another girl's belongings.

Magic by MJ!

The thought that someone might actually do that for her had not entirely occurred to Holliday. Now that she had confessed to the reason for her seclusion, it appeared as though she was being given a way out, a path to freedom. The darker side of her imagination cautioned that this could be a crony of Miss Borgin’s (she did not know the voice without a face), that the moment she cracked the door to receive such help she would find her towel similarly vanished.

“J-just some school robes, if you would,” the fourth year answered after rather a long, silent hesitation. Hers was a small enough body that such a garment would do even if received from a first year.

By now, Holliday had sunken to the floor, back to the door as she tried to get a grip.

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At least Acacia could feel that she helped at least a bit. Maybe a bit of kindness would bring the poor girl's tears to an end. It was never a good thing when one's day ended in tears, and Acacia was determined to make sure that this girl could at least get some sleep with a bit of happiness in her heart.

"I'll go grab some, and I'll be back soon." She replied. It wouldn't take too long to get such things. Turning away from the door, she walked away to grab what was needed, thoughts of ink well behind her.

Magic by MJ!

Anxiously, the fourth year continued to work on steadying her breathing as the other girl left for what felt like an eternity. What would she do if her housemate simply never returned? Live here forever? Or wait until the wee hours and try to dash out like a thief in the literal night? What a shame she was so young—a NEWT-level student might have been able to conjure something!

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Acacia tried to be quick with her task. It was slightly awkward, with ink all over her it felt strange to walk around like that. Not to mention the fact that some of the other girls had started to notice and stare. Blushing from embarrassment, she hurried along with her task.

Heading back, she held the clean robes carefully, trying to keep them away from her ink covered robes. Knocking on the door once more, she smiled warmly. “I brought the robes you need.” She said gently, keeping a look out for the troublesome Peeves, just in case he got any more ideas.

Magic by MJ!

The moment of truth, the moment of trust. With little difficulty, Holliday returned to her feet once more, one hand frantically clutching the towel to her as the other, reluctantly, opened the door just enough for the fourth year to peer out. It was Miss Ruskin she saw on the other side—a female, and no Peeves in sight!—and so the Ravenclaw opened the door just wide enough to stick out her free hand, her limited body weight keeping it from opening any further.

"Thank you," she replied gratefully.

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The door clicked open, and Acacia didn’t peer too much at the door. For all she knew, Peeves had stolen the towel as well! She would never make things even more awkward for the poor girl than it already was, and wished to remain respectable and polite. Noticing the outstretched hand, she placed the robes in the fellow Ravenclaw’s hand, whose voice she could now hear clearly and identify as Miss Fudge. “You’re welcome. I hope they fit well.” She responded.

Magic by MJ!

Hurriedly, she moved to dress herself once more, relishing the feel of fabric on her shoulders, her knees. The Ravenclaw took a few moments to steel herself before leaving the room at last, the sunlight in the windows almost blinding after her lantern-lit solitude.

“They’re a bit long,” she offered with a shy smile, gesturing down to where black fabric had pooled around her feet, “but beggars certainly can’t be choosers. Miss Ruskin, you’ve saved me!”

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It wasn’t a long wait, but it started to feel long as she noticed the feeling of ink more and more. Oh of course, she still needed to clear herself up. Perhaps she would need her own clothing beforehand. Hopefully Peeves didn’t think repeats were fun.

Looking down to where Miss Fudge gestured, she nodded lightly. Looking back up, she continued to give a kind smile. “Well, at least they are not too tight. That was my biggest concern.” She replied. Blushing lightly at the very thought that she was someone’s savior. “That is very nice of you to say, but I am sure that anyone would have helped you.” She added shyly.

Magic by MJ!

Sure, someone else might have helped, but they likely would not have been so patient with Holliday, had won her trust enough to help. Still, it seemed foolish to argue with her saviour, and so the third year merely offered Miss Ruskin a broad, relieved smile.

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