(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Settling Down' / Tuesday, November 22 / 12:10 PM.
Location: Corridors, Outside Great Hall
Open To: Wes
Currently Involving: Hargreaves
Hargreaves strutted down the stairs to the Great Hall for yet another lunch. He lamented at his schedule being so dreadfully dull. Wake up, eat, class, read, eat, dodge Thrillkill and his scissors, and go to sleep once more. It was a painful repetitive life for Hargreaves, he thought. He'd much rather be plotting something. But what was there to plot? Nothing. Nothing at all, at least not revealed to him.
Hands stuck in his pockets, he swayed past some Gryffindor girls, who he looked at closely to see if one of them might have been that Maslin that Rae wanted him to "woo." The thought of it made him sick to his stomach, and he looked away disgusted.
As he got to the Great Hall, he peered in the doors. Yet instead of entering, he instantly walked away, as the thought of having someone speak to him mindlessly made him furious. As he stormed away into the corridor, he tried to reassure himself of what his father had always said to him: "You must blend in. You must tolerate it all. It will pay off in the end." All he could do was feel a sense of resentment for his father, and adjust his tie. It was a bit crooked as he had passed those mudbloods, he thought.
Location: Corridors, Outside Great Hall
Open To: Wes
Currently Involving: Hargreaves
Hargreaves strutted down the stairs to the Great Hall for yet another lunch. He lamented at his schedule being so dreadfully dull. Wake up, eat, class, read, eat, dodge Thrillkill and his scissors, and go to sleep once more. It was a painful repetitive life for Hargreaves, he thought. He'd much rather be plotting something. But what was there to plot? Nothing. Nothing at all, at least not revealed to him.
Hands stuck in his pockets, he swayed past some Gryffindor girls, who he looked at closely to see if one of them might have been that Maslin that Rae wanted him to "woo." The thought of it made him sick to his stomach, and he looked away disgusted.
As he got to the Great Hall, he peered in the doors. Yet instead of entering, he instantly walked away, as the thought of having someone speak to him mindlessly made him furious. As he stormed away into the corridor, he tried to reassure himself of what his father had always said to him: "You must blend in. You must tolerate it all. It will pay off in the end." All he could do was feel a sense of resentment for his father, and adjust his tie. It was a bit crooked as he had passed those mudbloods, he thought.