(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Sometimes You Just Can't Win' / Thursday, September 21st, 2006 / 5:43 PM
Location: Slytherin Common Room
Open To: Rae and other Slytherins
Currently Involving: Illiad
His usual spot.
Legs thrown up over the side of the sofa meant no one was to bother him. Of course, there were a few first years who were still unable to grasp this concept. The sixth year was, of course, well known in this house for his intelligence and he was often besought with requests for tutoring. Better ask one of their own than some smarmy Ravenclaw, afterall. But all older students knew that these requests were only taken when his legs were down, or if he was in the library (without Brinley Watson-- or really anyone because if he was with another student, generally, said student was paying for their tutoring with gossip and other useful information; whoever said 'Genuis is born, not paid' obviously didn't understand the value of non-monetary payment).
In anycase, his legs were thrown up now, and a book entitled Drudic Battle Curses by Hodgy Turf was laying on his lap. Once and a while, he looked up, daring anyone to come close to him. He was in a foul enough mood as it was-- the Minister of Magic was coming tomorrow, and while Malfoy's visit would've been enough for most Slytherins to celebrate, it was definately not for Illiad, for various reasons.
Indeed, a first year was sulking near-by, a bright purple scarp of cloth tied tight around his mouth. He'd given up trying to dislodge it, and now sat with an upset look on his face, waiting for Illiad to finish his reading so he could make his request.
Location: Slytherin Common Room
Open To: Rae and other Slytherins
Currently Involving: Illiad
His usual spot.
Legs thrown up over the side of the sofa meant no one was to bother him. Of course, there were a few first years who were still unable to grasp this concept. The sixth year was, of course, well known in this house for his intelligence and he was often besought with requests for tutoring. Better ask one of their own than some smarmy Ravenclaw, afterall. But all older students knew that these requests were only taken when his legs were down, or if he was in the library (without Brinley Watson-- or really anyone because if he was with another student, generally, said student was paying for their tutoring with gossip and other useful information; whoever said 'Genuis is born, not paid' obviously didn't understand the value of non-monetary payment).
In anycase, his legs were thrown up now, and a book entitled Drudic Battle Curses by Hodgy Turf was laying on his lap. Once and a while, he looked up, daring anyone to come close to him. He was in a foul enough mood as it was-- the Minister of Magic was coming tomorrow, and while Malfoy's visit would've been enough for most Slytherins to celebrate, it was definately not for Illiad, for various reasons.
Indeed, a first year was sulking near-by, a bright purple scarp of cloth tied tight around his mouth. He'd given up trying to dislodge it, and now sat with an upset look on his face, waiting for Illiad to finish his reading so he could make his request.