The Hat, pleased with itself, basked in the serenity of its grand new home in
El Mundo del Sombrero. While the students roughed it in wizarding tents, the Hat would enjoy the luxury lifestyle with
the foulmouthed fix-it queen of its hatly dreams. O, the lovely Virginia. A pity she was human and not a hat. They probably couldn't produce any duck
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Still, being told that she was bound by magic to some new spouse? That was hurting her head a little, and she was still trying to sort through the hierachy of Hogwarts. Not knowing if this were a usual occurence, Laura makes up her mind to find out more about the history of the place as she enters her new room.
The Hat had got one thing right; she very much prefers to be inside.
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"You things are quite lucky I do not presume you to be tasty, as you are just begging to have me show you just how sharp my teeth can be."
When a frightened, but determined house elf neared with a cattle prod, Lestat waved his hand dismissively, scoffing.
"Oh I'm coming, I am not an animal and I will not be herded along."
With that, he made his way to his - hopefully - temporary new home. Assuming that it was his now, for the duration of this little joke, he made no attempt to knock, but instead entered straightaway, flanked by house elves loaded down with his belongings.
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Her concentration is interrupted by some man barging in through the door. Laura does not gasp, or tut disapprovingly; she only half-turns from the window, eyebrows raised a little.
'And I suppose you're the spouse the Hat indicated?'
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The statement was full of his idea that he, of course, did not make mistakes.
"I do not know if you have been here longer than I, as I hve not seen you here before, but I was hoping someone would shed a little light on this precocious sham of a prank."
He glanced in her direction, straightening his shirt sleeve and pulling it out from under his jacket. Whatever the laugh may be, he could definitely have ended up in worse company.
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'I was Sorted into Slytherin,' Laura announces, lip curling a fraction, 'And immediately hustled out here. I take it, by your reaction, that this is not the usual mode of business here?'
She sits neatly on the double bed, assessing him. At least he was easy on the eye. Laura de Winter has had to sit through innumerable worse experiences, such as losing her chance to wreak havoc through control of Time.
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He took a seat in a comfortable-looking chair, looking around at his new surroundings before speaking again.
"No, this is not usual at all, at least not to my knowledge. The Sorting went by and I made my way to my House, only to be uprooted and brought here. Be careful with that!"
His last sentence was directed to a pair of house elves clumsily trying to arrange his coffin in one corner of the room. Really, some things were just too valuable to be left in the care of others.
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Well. She supposes the bed will be all to herself, then.
'Shall we see much of each other in this...accomodation?' she asks in her cut-glass voice, a little uncomfortable with how quickly life apparently changed here. Laura values the routine she's normally in. Perfectly happy to let the House-elves fly about the room trying to make her comfortable, she dismisses one with an order for a drink.
'I only ask because, well.' She indicates the coffin. 'Our sleeping patterns might differ.'
But to be fair, she projects that image that she never sleeps, eats, or goes to the toilet. Laura's like that.
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His pale skin seemed to have its own glow in the strange light provided in their quarters, his tone always as smooth as silk. His eyes shifted to the door. Still no one had jumped out from behind a curtain, or run in yelling "Surprise!". The game was going on much longer than he had expected.
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'So you don't call me your 'dear' when we chat,' the lady says, smirking in a pleasant way, 'My name is Laura de Winter. And yours?'
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"My dear Miss Laura, my name is Lestat de Lioncourt, and if the letter I received is any indication, it is a last name that you will be sharing with me from now on. Unless, of course, they offer the opportunity to keep your own, though where is the love in that kind of marriage?"
His voice was dripping with the irony of the situation, but not by any means hostile. Sarcasm was just his most favored form of conversation.
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'If you do not object, Mr. de Lioncourt, I will retain my last name. And it is Mrs; I am afraid I am a widow.'
(That's the official story. He disappeared, in any case.)
Laura does not mean to be cruel (unusually). But she is damned if anyone will wrench that name away from her.
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He stood, busying himself by prodding the unfamiliar surroundings, finding what this place had to offer.
"I suppose I mispoke by calling you Miss anyway, since we are supposedly not only married, but magically so. I wonder how you came to be in a place such as this?"
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Laura does not stand yet, assessing his gait as he lopes about the room, trying to discover if he can be friend, foe, or just polite.
'And you? How did you find Hogwarts?' Lip curl once more.
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He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the door with a thoughtful expression. He then half-turned towards her, a smile on his face just wide enough to show off one very sharp canine.
"It will be getting late soon, and I must venture out. I have dinner plans, you know."
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'I only ask that you don't bring whoever the lucky fellow is to bleed all over the floor,' she says lightly. 'I find it hard enough to sleep as it is in new places.'
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