Text Cut: Prof. Culloden
Quote:
Originally Posted by
StarShine 
Cosgrach was glad Cutty took the paper, because he definitely was the more responsible one. He nodded at--
.....
.........MERLIN! Couldn't she stay CALMLY just ONE moment!?
Cosgrach waved his wand to keep them safely on their feet, and GLARED at the girl.
"Do you want me to stick your hand to his, Ms. Quimbley?" Maybe the boy was torturing her, maybe he KNEW she would flail and all, but Cosgrach didn't see it that way at all. What he saw was: Cutty was responsible, smart, impressive and eloquent (and right to break up with her); whereas she was this squirming, loud, not-really-bright girl (maybe she brew a love potion to get his attention?--she was just a second year, though, so it had to be that she BOUGHT it). Cutty was beginning to impress him again, whereas she was in the negatives. He HOPED she would pick herself up, or else...
"Now, please go." He turned 90 degrees to the plate in front of him and showed he was focusing on his food now. That was their cue to be GONE for good now, because his patience was wearing out, especially with her.[/COLOR]
"No!" Fern yelped, all thoughts of dementors replaced by that of an even worse fate - her hand glued to Cuthbert's ALL DAY LONG.
"I mean I mean!" Fern took a deep, shaky breath. She tried to compose herself. This was very hard,
"Sorry professor, sorry!"
Right. Fern didn't need to be told twice.
"Yes sir!" she squeaked, and started to leave, but her wrist jerked against the chain. Cuthbert had stopped. Why had he stopped?
Text Cut: Headmistress Bunz & Cutty
Quote:
Originally Posted by
BanaBatGirl Breakfast time! Anastasia was happy to report to the Great Hall for breakfast. Her hip was aching again (probably because she'd teetered over in that Magical Creature playpen) and she was looking for some warm porridge to take her mind off the pain.
She made her way slowly to the dais and wasn't surprised to see only Cosgrach here. It was still pretty early. Most of those young hooligans liked to sleep in, didn't they? Except for these two hanging out here, apparently? Annie eyed them briefly as she walked the length of the table.
But oh, her attention was mostly focused on Cosgrach. She simply had to sit next to him. Annie touched her hair nervously as she approached where he was sitting and then casually pulled out the chair beside him. She hoped her hair was looking all right. Not that she was vain or anything, but *ahem* she had a feeling her unsavory roots were showing and it had only been two weeks since she had last colored them.
She was going to have to write to Madame Primpernelle's and complain about their watering down of their potions later. Hmmph! But for now... the redhead spooned some cream of wheat into a bowl and busied herself with adjusting its sweetness. She pretended not to listen to whatever was going on with the Puff, the Snake, and the Potions Professor. She'd talk to her colleague when they were done. Quote:
Originally Posted by
SlytherinSistah
Cutty managed to keep a smile from his face as Fern plopped into him. Such a waste of energy. Such a waste of marvelous, marvelous energy. Well, never one for waste, Cutty's mind began to twist and plot as he tried to figure ways to channel Fern's energy for his own benefit. Maybe if he invested in rollerblades...? H'mm.
Mush, girl! Mush!
That last word from their potions master was given and Cutty took it as their queue to depart from the staff table. In a manner which almost implied that he could care less about Fern and her woes, the boy started their departure, but first...
"Good morning, Headmistress Truebridge." He acknowledged the school's Headmistress with the parting salutation. Being dismissed, he would not linger. Instead, he headed straight for the Slytherin table...and Quimbley was coming whether by will or force.
Oh!
Oh no!
It was the headmistress.
Fern's fashion idol.
Professor Elwood had the most fabulous collection of jingly bracelets, and Professor Bellaire wore dragon skin dresses, but Headmistress Truebridge belonged to a class all her own. She always wore the cutest heals and boots, and her outfits were always color coordinated and fashion forward, and her hair was always perfectly coifed. She WAS fashion. The living embodiment. Oftentimes, Fern wondered why Headmistress Truebridge was a headmistress when she could so easily be the chief editor of Style Sorcery and have VIP front seats and backstage passes for all of the best fashion shows.
Normally, Fern wouldn't have complained, not when this meant that she got to see Headmistress Truebridge's fashion choices on a daily basis. Today, however, she was wishing Headmistress Truebridge was A. Truebridge with a London penthouse and an office in DA.
Fern shook her head, trying to get her bushy hair to better hide her face, and she shoved her free hand into her pocket in order to hide her dark orchid nails.
"Hello, Headmistress," she said in the very lowest voice she could manage, before feeling the chain on her wrist yanked again - this time not in protest to her movement, but instead pulling her along. Fern turned and followed Cuthbert without complaint, keeping her head down.