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Charming has a number of lonely plots looking for love. Why not take a gander and see what hijinks your character can get up to? — Kayte ( Submit your own)
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Clare Victoria Basiltree for Christopher Basiltree.
Meddlesome mother, but make her a squib <3
The thought of marrying Cecily Gallivan had occurred to Fitz in the way that the thought of marrying any attractive young lady did: a firm maybe and a hasty step away to more pleasurable topics, like sport or brandy.Fitzroy Prewett in Well. That took a turn.
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#17
  
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Bell wasn't sure what she meant by her last question, but he was inclined to interpret it charitably since she'd been so enthusiastic about the idea of learning from tutors as he had. To be honest, he didn't use as much magic in his life as he probably could. Growing up with a Muggle mother, he'd known how to do most things without it. The spells he used most frequently were for handling his magical paints when he made moving portraits, which wasn't something he expected most people would have even learned, much less used with any degree of frequency.

"Since I was ten, sure," he said with a shrug. "What do you mean whenever you wanted? Do they give you a schedule for learning magic in England, or something? Wands out in the mornings and then put away by lunch, that sort of thing?"
#18
  
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Hermia would love to laugh at the idea of a wand schedule, but he wasn't completely wrong. "Ministry law bans the use of underage magic except in situations of imminent harm to oneself or others or in individual cases where specific licenses are granted for employment purposes. We are monitored until our seventeenth birthday. Essentially, it's wands up in September and act like they don't exist come June." Honestly, how could he practice magic and not know this? Had his parents received special permission? Had her parents lied about the difficulty of such requests? If there was some provision that would have allowed her to practice over holidays before this term, she was going to have stern words with her father.


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Lady is a genius
#19
  
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Her answer sounded so mechanic and rehearsed that Bellamy almost wanted to laugh. He knew there were restrictions on underaged magic in Britain, but the laws weren't universal. The only universal rules were things set down by the International Statute of Secrecy, and there wasn't a clause about underaged magic at all, so every country he'd been to did things a little differently. To someone in northern India, who apprenticed under a guru at six or seven and would learn magic slowly over the next decade in lieu of formal European schooling, the idea that children ought to be prevented from doing magic would have been ridiculous. Even more ridiculous when you started bandying about phrases like imminent harm to oneself or others; the language just seemed so far removed from reality.

"Did you just recite that?" he asked with an incredulous grin — he was making fun of her a little. "Is that part of the coursework here, memorizing the wording on laws?"
#20
  
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"Not verbatim," Hermia responded truthfully before his tone even registered. She recoiled slightly when it set in that she was being mocked. That wasn't something she was used to, not any longer. "The Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery is essential, but not a subsection of the actual Statute of Secrecy." Hermia grinned brightly, now a part of the joke. Reciting from the Statute of Secrecy was nearly synonymous with being a Bonaccord. The History Club, and Professor Darrow, got that demonstration at the first possible opportunity. She was a good sport about this sort of teasing, it wasn't as if her odd skill for memorization had ever harmed her. She was a Bonaccord, rote memorization of dry material was a genetic predisposition. "And it isn't required at Hogwarts, but my parents never mentioned that as my brothers and I spent hours on memorization. You mean to tell me your parents didn't stake family honor of useless recitation?"


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Lady is a genius
#21
  
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Bellamy laughed openly at that, though he wasn't sure if she was making a joke or serious. Hours on recitation? Surely no one could really think there was any benefit to that? Whether she was serious about the activity or not, though, she at least seemed to be of the same opinion he did that the practice would be useless.

"We never spent much time talking about family honor," he admitted, still laughing. "My uncle was involved in the slave trade eighty years after they made it illegal, so — not much honor left to salvage after that came out, I think." Maybe he shouldn't be discussing that quite so openly, but it had been a fact of his life so long that the shock value of the statement had worn off for Bellamy. It wasn't as though he'd been personally traumatized by the news; he had only met Sebastian Echelon once or twice prior to his sordid affairs coming to light, and had no particularly salient memories of him. Certainly no fond ones. Still, the point remained: for someone whose close relative had made his fortune by selling people against their will, notion of legacy and honor seemed, at best, unspeakably pretentious.
#22
  
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"Between statutes and slavery, I think I had the better go of it." Hermia mused candidly. Perhaps that was why his family name was familiar, the illegal slave trade would be rather newsworthy, though Hermia couldn't remember the event. It must be some time ago, especially if a nephew could joke so openly about it. Hermia appreciated the forthright attitude but imagining doing so herself was nearly funny. Hermia rarely spoke about Pierre; she definitely wasn't going to joke about him being a squib.

"Then perhaps you make your own legacy." Hermia offered as if that was something you decided on a Friday and perfected by Monday. "What do you want to be remembered for? Maybe not abolition, it is a bit late and maybe too literal a reaction." She hadn't imagined career counseling tonight, but it seemed a more humanitarian venture than remarking on the various tints of white the debutants wore.


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Lady is a genius
#23
  
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"Oh, that's easy," Bellamy said, without even having to think about it first. Why give the question any thought now when he'd been thinking about it for years already? He'd known what he wanted to do with his life since he was fifteen, though his more general ambitions had been honed to a much finer point through reading (and rereading, and rereading) The Picture of Dorian Gray.

"I want to be remembered for my art," he continued. "I want to paint a portrait that captures so much of a person's soul the painting becomes more renowned than its subject."

It occurred to him only after he'd answered to wonder why she'd asked him. It seemed strange for anyone in her position to be concerned with such high-minded ideals as eternal beauty. Maybe she'd meant something else by legacy. Preemptively a little defensive, he asked, "Why, what are you going to do? Marry someone?"
#24
  
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Hermia's polite interest became full engagement at the mention of art. If she'd had time for another club, she would consider the art club or at least the choir. Hermia was never much for paints, but she enjoyed charcoal drawings, ballet, and music. Hermia enjoyed creation, the work of materializing a thought or impulse in some physical manifestation. Perhaps one is inspired to sing, perhaps her charcoal smudges knew where to go, and maybe she felt less anxious about her long and lean form when she was moving through ballet positions.

"See? You already know your legacy. You must tell me your medium. Olis seem preferable, but are there other things you prefer? Oh, and your subjects - what sort of person do you imagine in your works? It seems a worthy endeavor, regardless." Hermia meant it and hoped he was gifted enough with speech to describe his artwork to her.

At the reminder of her assumed life goal, Hermia scrunched up her nose in disgust before regaining control of her reactions. "Of course I will marry someone, but that is not my life goal. I," Hermia hesitated. She didn't disclose her future hopes easily, especially with a stranger, but Hermia could offer something. "I would like to follow in my family's foreign service tradition or find my own posting in the Ministry."


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Lady is a genius
#25
  
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Bellamy didn't really know what to make of her response, so he merely frowned lightly at her and said "Hm." He hadn't actually been trying to ask about her ambitions in life, really — he'd just been trying to preemptively defend his own, in case she was tempted to laugh or deride his comments about art, which she didn't seem interested in doing. And he didn't know what she meant by foreign service. He was inclined to support anything that the British deemed foreign just on principle, but service of what? The British government, probably, but what were they doing mucking about in foreign countries? They probably ought to just stay home — if their goal was to make the rest of the world more British, Bell really wished they wouldn't. Britain was the most boring place he'd ever lived in (probably mostly because it was the place he'd stayed the longest and he was shiftless by nature, but Bellamy wouldn't have recognized that).

"Mostly oils, some watercolor, and some sculpture," he answered instead — he was quite comfortable talking about himself, rather than digging into whatever it was the Ministry did (aside from being the workplace of the Minister and presumably locking up criminals, Bellamy didn't really know). "And it's not about any particular sort of person. It's about beauty," he practically gushed. "I'm working on one of this fellow I met in a park, Alistair Darrow, and if you could see the way the sunlight hits his hair — he's got curls the color of honey, when the light is just right. And the way his features are laid out — there's this curve to the bottom of his nose that looks just perfect in profile, and the way his jaw's cut — his lips have the same shade as cherry blossoms. He's — well, you can't describe him," Bellamy concluded, feeling the familiar frustration of not being able to find words for the image he had in his head. "You just have to see him."
#26
  
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It suited Hermia just fine to veer away from mentions of her future. No matter how she put her mind to the task, she couldn't decide what she wanted next, not really. She was mostly certain she would avoid a match she didn't agree on, but it was still a frightening possibility. She'd much rather focus on someone's art.

Smiling indulgently as Mr. Echelon raved about his muse, Hermia couldn't help but blush a little at the very in-depth description of her former housemate. Perhaps this was just how artists spoke, but it was rather intimate to her ears. It wasn't her place to make such an observation, of course. "We are distantly acquainted. Mr. Darrow was my housemate and his grandfather is a professor here. I think you've captured him quite well if you can describe him so perfectly." She hoped that was encouraging, but she hadn't seen the work herself.


[Image: 32gXPO.jpg]
Lady is a genius


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