``the nicest thing [open]

[emmeline vance]

i wish you'd hold my hand

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i wish you had a favourite beauty spot that you loved
secretly, 'cos it was on a hidden bit that nobody else
could see. basically, i wish that you loved me, i wish
that you needed me, i wish that you knew when i said
two sugars, actually i meant three.[/font]

---

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[/i] she thought, walking in front of the wall. A door appeared and Emmeline rushed inside.

There was a large wardrobe in the middle of the room, plain, but big enough for her to fit inside. The rest of the room was bare, and two large windows overlooked the lake. Emmeline dropped her bag and opened the wardrobe. It was like it usually was. It was dark, but comfortable. It was perfect for drowning out the sound of a storm. As she closed the door, she heard a large clap of thunder that frightened her so badly that she backed up quickly and fell to floor of the wardrobe with a loud thud. Her heart was racing and she pulled her legs closer to her. Emmeline swore quietly and covered her ears as another crash of thunder sounded, closer this time. The storm was close, but hopefully it would be over soon. She just hoped she wouldn't be found out.

Sirius knew about her...fear... mostly because she had nearly tackled him to the ground out of fright. After the storm passed, and Emmeline could talk again, she made him promise never to tell anyone else or she would make sure that no girl ever talked to him ever again. He kept up his end, or so she believed, and she kept up hers. She knew none of the Marauders (save maybe Remus) could be trusted, but hopefully, maybe, Sirius could see how distraught she was and had a change of heart. Of course, she wouldn't be surprised if he had slipped this bit of information to boys at a price. Always looking out for her. Emmeline honestly didn't know why guys continued to approach her. She was loud and obnoxious, not somebody to have a crush on. She was good for a shag, or a good snog, or even transfiguration, but her abilities to have a relationship never really went past the first night.

In fact, the Gryffindor had only had maybe one date in her lifetime. This had been when she was fourteen. When she grew a good six inches and obtained small awkward breasts almost overnight. A seventh year Ravenclaw boy had noticed her, called her pretty, and asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade. Of course, Emmeline had agreed. Having a date with a 17 year old was the coolest thing, in her eyes. In fact, after that date, almost every girl in her years wanted to be her friend. The date itself had been weird, to a fourteen year old anyway. They had gone to Madam Puddifoots, and she witnessed everyone in the room seemingly attached to one another. The Ravenclaw looked like he wanted to be doing the same with Emmeline. But Emmeline was too oblivious for that. They had left and went to Honeydukes, where the Ravenclaw boy bought her bags of candy. It made Emmeline more than uncomfortable. She realized after that night that dates were not her thing. Dates would never be her thing, and so, the following night, Emmeline and the Ravenclaw boy had sex, and she never talked to him again. She gave the candy to her friends, and continued on.

Emmeline jumped as more thunder sounded and suddenly wished she had a boyfriend. He would comfort her and hold her until the storm ended. She wouldn't have to go at it alone, in a wardrobe, of all things. Wait - no. That was no way to go about it. She could overcome her fear without the help of some guy. Another clap of thunder made her start shivering in fear. She hugged her legs close and burying her head between her knees. "Damnit, hurry up and end," she mumbled to herself.

Emmeline had started to calm down. She was doing long division in her head, and in French, something that always calmed her down. One hundred and twenty three into ten thousand and four. Huddled in the back of the wardrobe, she thought furiously and tried to block out the sounds of the storm. She was used to being alone during a thunderstorm. Her father used to make her feel better, but when he started to ignore her, Emmeline was left to hide under tables all by herself. But she didn't mind as much anymore. She used to cry when she was alone during a storm. She even passed out once and had to be sent to the Hospital Wing. But now she knew not to start bawling. It didn't make thunder any less frightening. Long division was a much better way to calm herself down. Music was another good one. Emmeline would blast the Beatles in her dorm until the storm quieted, and it worked wonders.[/color][/font]
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[lucius abraxas malfoy]

^{come out upon my seas
cursed missed oppertunities
am I part of the cure?
or am I part of the disease?}[/I]

((hope you don’t mind))

With every strike of lightning that touched down, the black waters of the lake lit up like liquid fire, gleaming in the spectacular streak of light before dimming once again in mysterious recluse. The waters swirled and rushed to the pebbly shore near Hogwarts in contempt and rage, unable to go much of anywhere to shield itself from the storm. The rain that hailed down like tender bullets were a demon in themselves, each, thin sliver ice cold and unforgiving to whatever living or nonliving entity it crashed upon. Lucius was one of those entities and he had just about enough of the assailing winds and threatening moans of thunder, no matter how spectacular and entrancing the view was. It did not take too long before Mother Nature gave the young Malfoy a final warning to head back indoors or otherwise see the uncontrollable wrath that was touching down in Scotland. Receding back from the lake’s banks, he picked up his pace to a healthy run towards the doors of Hogwarts, though partially weighed down by his clothes which were soaked through.

Lucius may have entered the castle with little trouble, but who would suspect that he would actually come across more trouble within the vicinity of Hogwarts. As Lucius passed through the entrance hall in direct line with the passageway down to the dungeons, he felt a peculiar sensation of something wet pushing against the small of his back (which was a feat, seeing as he was already sopping), the cold sensation of water shimmied down his backside in rivets through his black robes before Lucius turned around - the apparition of a very pleased Peeves looking down upon him in glee. Only confusion was marked on Lucius’s face as Peeves then began to cackle as if he had succeeded in some great act. Maybe it was because his robes were as black as night when wet or dry, or maybe Peeves just wasn’t paying acute attention to the puddles Lucius littered behind him - whatever the case, Peeves was far more impressed with himself than Lucius was. With notable indigence, Lucius cut into Peeves ongoing barks of laughter with a very truthful statement, “I was already wet.”

This voice of apathy apparently did not sit well with Peeves the Poltergeist at all. Naturally he wanted to get a rise out of the students, one would think he would look for more squeamish and less intimidating people than Lucius. Now Peeves was offended, but disappeared down the basement way. In small apprehension and knowing that Peeves would reemerge, his inner hypothesis was proved correct in a matter of moment. In rebuttal to Lucius’s bland response, Peeves had conjured a sack of .. Flour? Yes, indeed it was flour, and he couldn’t resist to rain some down upon Lucius like he was an oversized pastry. Before Peeves got a good chance to pour his full sack, however, Lucius darted up the marble stair case as fast as he could with water-logged shoes. The sounds of squishing and shooshing were the only sounds Lucius made as he darted about the levels of the school, the sound of rumbling thunder and Peeves’s cackling as his accompaniments.

Once he reached the fifth floor, Lucius ducked behind the shadowy alcove where one of many statues around Hogwarts stood, watching pensively for Peeves and his trail of flour to pass. Lucius had already gotten a few hits to his robes, the thin layer of white powder seemingly sinking into the fabric, much to Lucius’s chagrin. The craft of hiding would be much simpler, however, if he didn’t have a visible trail of muck and water tracing his every step. And so Lucius darted out, pacing before the great plane of wall on the fifth floor as he thought desperately, I need a place to hide. More than thrice he repeated that phrase, each inward statement more hurried than the last as Peeves cackle grew slowly louder. At seemingly long last, a door revealed itself beneath the tapestry and Lucius fled through the threshold, closing the door promptly behind him. My my, the Room of Requirement has gotten rather stingy with him. Sure, Lucius wanted to ‘hide’, but a wardrobe? That’s rather quaint of it. But, how could Lucius complain, he so needed a place to disappear into until Peeves found someone else to throw flour on.

Stepping further into the room and after finally slowing down, he begun to realize just how uncomfortable he really was. His muscles burned from use which wouldn’t be a problem if his clothes weren’t so wet and clothed, instead of the feeling of being loose and warmed up, he felt numb and chaffed, not to mention weighted down by his school robes and all the layers he had donned underneath. While he waited, there was no reason to not tidy himself up a bit. Stepping out towards the farside window, Lucius unfastened his school robes from his body and let them drop to the floor. The flour that Peeves assaulted him with had only managed to tarnish the backside of his robes, but Lucius was lost on what to do. Would a simple drying charm cake in the particles of flour? Would a cleaning charm be sufficient? Or should he just haul it back with him and wait for the houseelves to do something productive with it? He knew what he was not going to do, and that was apply a drying charm to neither his usually ash gray, cashmere sweater or his silver and green, Slytherin tie. Many assumed that drying charms were absolutely foolproof, the fact of the matter was that neither satin, cashmere, or wavy to curly hair should undertake a harsh drying spell. Static, lint poofs, and flyaways occurred, and Lucius was rather thoughtful when it came to the care of his garments and even himself, though truth to say that the only curls one would see on Lucius’s head particularly would be soft, subtle waves that showed when it was damp.

Lucius carefully tugged his sopping sweater over his head, setting it down flat as he peeled his tie gently off his sternum and pulled it away from the lump of his throat. After the delicate fabrics were off his body, Lucius was more than ready to perform a drying enchantment to his other main garments, including a wet, tucked-in oxford plastered to his torso, heavy, black trousers and socks, and once polished, leather school shoes which were now covered in splattered mud and grass stains with a puddle’s worth of water soaked inside the sole. Picking up his flour-covered robes once more, he dug through the pockets in search of his wand as he maneuvered towards the wardrobe. Upon retrieving his very sacred tool, he continued to drip more and more down onto the floor around him like he was his own personal rain cloud, an aroma of ginger wafting from the collar and sleeves of his shirt, the faint scent of citrus and some other mysterious spice following suit due to the water mingling with the remnants of his cologne matched with his own body heat. Deciding to just throw his sullied robes into the closet for now (and maybe just leave it there for laziness’s sake), Lucius was quite startled to find a person inside this wardrobe. “Oh!” Lucius exclaimed quietly, a look of pure astonishment appearing on his visage as he took a quick step back, causing a multitude of droplets to fall from his body including his hands, elbows, and chin. With one hand clenching his wand and the other grasping the neck of his robes, he finally had enough oxygen in his lungs to finish the clause he had begun in a jolt. “- Dear.” While it probably did little for Emmeline’s psyche, Lucius’s visage was similar to someone watching the final moments before a cataclysmic train wreck.

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