This house elf is inordinately fond of my pants.

Is everything mad in this house?

Granger. I need to talk to you.

Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -- She was the Universe.

I admit, Blaise. They aren't all bad, your Muggle poets.

Your book was by your pillow. Don't fret. I put it back.

No, I did not make a miniature bonfire out of my journal ( Read more... )

Pansy. Common room. Now.

Blaise, I believe we've run out of alcohol. This is most distressing.

If your name was not mentioned above, do not talk to me. Unless you're

The sound of flowing water that's perpetually present here isn't without its sources of origin. It appears that I will, in fact, swim in a lake of questionable sanitation without having to be coerced. Everything here seems pure. One will have to forgive my momentary lapse of judgement. What Mother doesn't know won't hurt her ( Read more... )

Do try not to miss me too much.

Potter, if I hear another word about the fucking owl, I'm going to hurt you.

Someone keep my cousin occupied before I tie her to a chair.

I'm Potter, and I like to cross things out

all

down

the page

and pretend that they constitute as journal entries when they really don't.

They save me a detention, however, and this had better do the same.

Blaise, I received an owl from Mother regarding the trip. It appears Charis will be joining us. Don't look too excited.

Potter.

Your owl. My owl.

Why.

I have a strong craving for classical music.

Pansy, I don't suppose you'd be willing to play your violin for me? Just for a while?

Detention was a lovely affair, for those of you who'd like to know. Fucking journals.