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amandaj718 · 7 years ago

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State of the Robron Fandom (As I See It)

I was raised on the American soap opera. Mostly CBS soap operas. That means I grew up watching The Young and the Restless, As the World Turns, Guiding Light and The Bold and the Beautiful. I had a slight flirtation of General Hospital in college, watching for three years before taking a break never to return but I keep up. I loved and hated all the characters that ran through the television screen and into my life. I enjoyed reading the soap magazines to hear what others were thinking about my favorite and hated storylines.

As I grew up, those magazines remained (most of the soaps did not) but added to that was social media. It started out on message boards, moved to fanfiction.net, then LiveJournal then Twitter, Tumblr, and Achieve of Ours. Since then soaps have changed, well the American ones at least. The ratings fell, and so did its existence.

Since then, I have moved on. British soap operas are catching my eye. Emmerdale, in particular. Well, Robert and Aaron are what caught my eye. The rest of my love for the show came with time. Anyway, with that came a new fandom. An intense fandom is full of different personalities and opinions. Full of talented and smart people A fandom that is loud and very proud of those different views and talents. Which is great. When things are going well. This is what I’ve seen in the Robron fandom and where I stand on it.

Echo Chamber of the Freak Out

Ah. Social media is great to meet likeminded people. Get those opinions out, so it does not sit there in your brain taking away space you need (I know that is not how the mind works, it just feels that way sometimes). It can be a lot of fun to be part of a television fandom. Getting other viewpoints on a scene or character. What is even more fun? Talking speculation and spoilers….until it is not.

Social media has a tendency to make one person’s worry or anger echo. All it takes is one popular account to get upset or overexcited, and the effect is heard from Twitter to the most primitive of message boards. The echo chamber is quite strong in the Robron fandom. This is not a new phenomenon but can be trying when people get upset about every little thing every day.

Stop the Hate

With the echo chamber comes the echoed opinions. Different opinions are needed. That is what makes a fandom interesting. However, fandom is not fun when people are attacking each other or attacking the actors or workers on a show. Why am I beating around the bush here? I have seen it more and more with Emmerdale lately. Not on Tumblr, this is showing up on Twitter. That echo chamber causes people to lash out more because they feel they have some backing if someone challenges them. I have fallen into that trap before. It is not pretty especially when you look back after the anger has passed.

Spoilers and You

Spoilers are a must in the soap world. It keeps us aware of what is coming, what to get excited about and what to prepare for. Let’s just say that on spoiler days, things get crazy. People freak, get excited or go back to their fanfiction they were reading.

Spoilers are not new. I remember waiting excitedly for my Soap Opera Digest to arrive so I could know if Michelle and Danny were getting back together that week! (Look it up, kids). It was fun to think about what would happen. Now? It is like a battlefield. Spoilers come out from numerous sources trying to get our attention. So, they click bait, they scare, they embellish, and that gets everyone upset. It becomes less of a report of what is to come and more of a death march to freak out land.

Where I Stand

I feel like the fandom is feeling torn. Some are offended by the current storyline. Offended enough to stop watching. Some are offended over how it got started. The fact the show will not cover consent, how quickly we went from a big high to a major low and the abuse Robert and Aaron have gone through. People are getting letters from Leon the intern, people are arguing with each other over tiny differences of opinion and people are threatening the official social media account.

Here is where I stand. This story sucks. It does. It feels like we are in the pit after being at the highest of highs. There are pacing, writing and general lack of communication problems. However, things aren't that bad. Seriously. Let me explain.

The framework of this story is classic soap. What is interesting and changes the game are the players in the story. Not only are they not following the standard script they are changing up the game. Robert is growing. Not only did he have to get drunk, thought he was broken up with Aaron and have no contact with him for the cheating to happen, he immediately regretted it, told Chas and even told Aaron because he knew he should not because someone pressured him into it. Aaron still has to grow, but I see it coming with this individual story. Rebecca…sigh...I am sorry to say was screwed over. I cannot stand her. I do not like her. I do not have to like her. Not liking her does not make me anti-women. It does not make me a terrible person. She is a poorly written character. I can only judge her based on what we have seen from her not what we wish we seen from her as a character. That is where the fandom divides. I know what people wanted to see from her, but it's not there. Stop pretending it is. Take her at face value. That is what the writers do. They only take her at face value to push the Robert and Aaron story forward. That is where this classic soap story goes off course. Rebecca is not a factor. Robert will not magically fall for her because she is carrying his child. She is a mistake, and that mistake has consequences that are going to stick. Like we have been told by so many people in the past year, Robert always gets away unscathed. Now, he is has been struck. He loves Aaron with all his heart, and that will not change anytime soon.

Which brings me to the baby. The baby is not really a factor. Yes, Robert will step up and try. Why? He is not a monster. Of course, he would love his baby (until that DNA test is done we can always assume something is up) and want to take care of him or her. Doesn’t make him love Aaron any less. There is a difference between loving a kid and loving your partner or spouse. The baby causes drama that the two of them must get through. They will falter and fall but ultimately find their way back and even stronger than ever, regardless if a child is there are not.

This brings me to some fan issues. Everyone has the right to be angry. Everyone has the right to hate what is happening. To take it out on other fans though, I have a problem with that. I do not agree with a lot of opinions, but I do not question those opinions. I let people have them and move on with my life. That includes some of the options on Iain MacLeod. I personally don’t think he is bad at all. In fact, I am thankful he has shown up. Why? He turned Robert into a well-rounded character. He let Robert make mistakes and grow from those mistakes. He let Robert start talking about his bisexuality. He was allowed to be there for Aaron in a way that he was not during the Kate Oates era. I think people forget that Kate had turned Robert into a one-dimensional villain that never intended for Aaron and Robert to become something bigger than an affair. It might seem like Iain is putting Robert and Aaron through the ringer but without him, we would not even be here right now. Both are fantastic storytellers, but Iain is the one to bring us the biggest events that made Robron what Robron is. I believe he loves them. I really do. As someone who has heard a ton of showrunners talks about couples, I have never heard the phrase “soulmates” come out of their mouths. Iain does care. People are allowed to disagree. I just think he is going through a rough patch right now. They will right the ship soon. I believe all of these parallels and themes popping up in the show have a reason. We will not get answers right away, but I think this will all come to a satisfying conclusion.

As for spoilers and freak outs. Its ok to be scared for what is coming. Morale is low right now, so every little thing creates drama. Sometimes certain Twitter accounts love the attention, so they make spoilers seem bigger than they appear. Sometimes spoilers look one way on the page and play out a different way on screen. Shall I bring up the spoiler that Aaron will ditch Robert to hang with Adam? PLEASE. Adam wanted to hang with Robert in the end. In fact, that part of the scene was great. Sometimes it is easier to read the spoilers, shrug and wait for everything to play out on screen. It is fun to speculate (I should know) but don’t take it so far that it ruins the enjoyment of the story or show.

The last point I want to cover. The threatening of leaving the fandom. If you are upset by the story or show just leave for a while. No one is stopping you. When you are emotionally ready to come back, we will be here welcoming you with open arms. You do not have to make others leave with you. I know if I were so upset that I tell off a Twitter account run by people outside of the show every day, I would take a break. For my own sanity. Doesn’t mean other people have the same problems or low tolerance level.

I know it is hard and this storyline sucks, but I feel like everyone is jumping to conclusions way too easily these days. I feel like we need to let this play out. Let all the players they put on the storyboard play their parts. It is a story. When you read a novel or watch a movie, do you get all the pieces or understand the plot right away? No. You must keep going and let the story play out. Same with Emmerdale and Robron. Just need to keep a positive attitude, keep talking things out with fellow fans if you are frustrated and just let the story play out. Have faith. Things will get worse before it gets better but I see it getting better.

If it does not? We can all blame Intern Leon. (wink)

So, take this with a grain of salt. I am just someone who grew up watching soaps and understand what is required of a soap to keep moving forward. The plots do not always go to plan. Fans push back. However, sometimes fans get a surprise. The only way we can know if this story will turn out a surprise is if we keep watching and supporting the show. Social Media has made fan panic louder than ever, but we have each other to talk to now when things get bad. Let us use those conversations on social media to be a bit more positive and supportive and we will be ok.

#Robron #opinon piece #State of the fandom #fandom #Emmerdale #Robert Sugden #Aaron Dingle #iain macleod

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childrenofhypnos · 8 years ago

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Chapter 18: Skeleton Boy

That night in Emery’s dorm room, none of the seven of them could come up with explanations for what Emery and Wes had seen in the Dream.

Emery sat, legs folded, on top of her desk. Edgar sat in the desk chair, slowly nodding off. Ridley had settled herself on one end of the narrow dorm bed, and Joel and Jacqueline fought for space at the other end; Kris and Lewis sat close but very decidedly not touching, on the floor. Wes leaned against the doorframe.

They ran through every scenario Emery could think of.

“So here’s what we’ve got,” she said at three A.M, with Edgar’s forehead resting against her knee and the non-dreamhunters among them getting frayed and hoarse. She held up a finger. “One: The Sandman—”

“Klaus,” Wes said.

“—Klaus had a drawing of my doppelgänger in his nightmare because I was on his mind and he thinks about doppelgängers a lot. Not my favorite theory. He was following me for a reason.” She held up another finger. “Two: He had the drawing because he’s waiting for my doppelgänger to appear and he was following me because he thinks it will soon? Or…because he wants to sic it on me when it does?” Emery rubbed her forehead. “Also not my favorite theory. Three—”

“Em,” Joel interrupted. His head was back against the wall, his eyes half-closed. “Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.” He glanced at the clock. “Um, later today. I don’t think running over the same theories is going to help.”

“He’s right,” Jacqueline said. “There isn’t enough evidence to support any of these.” She stood from the bed, yawned, and nudged Kris and Lewis awake with the toe of her boot. “I’m going back to my room.”

Joel got up too, stopping by the desk to lean over Edgar and give Emery a quick kiss goodbye. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he said.

He, Jacqueline, Kris, and Lewis shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind them. Wes looked at Ridley and made a motion with his head.

“We should get out of here, too.”

Ridley looked between them. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, and her limbs were so thin she looked like an odd pile of sticks. “Are you sure you’re both okay? I mean, even forgetting the Sandman stuff and the poison and the doppelgänger—you were in the Dream for a while.”

“We’re fine.” Wes held out his hand. “Come on.”

Ridley let him tug her toward the door, but she glanced back. “Um, thank you, Emery.”

“For what?”

“For getting Wes out of the Dream.”

Wes growled. “Ridley…”

Emery snorted. “You have that backwards. He got me out of the Dream.”

Wes paused and looked back at her. Emery busied herself with gathering Edgar’s sleeping form up out of the desk chair.

When Wes and Ridley were gone, the door closed behind them, Emery lifted Edgar’s dead weight and carried him the two feet to the bed, where she laid him down and pulled the covers over him. She herself only used the bed once a month, and only if the sleep research center let her take her monthly sleep in her own dorm room instead of one of their labs where they could monitor her. Edgar would probably have preferred to sleep in his own bed—he’d once told her that his classmates made fun of him when he smelled like her body spray—but he’d get made fun of more for being carried, sleeping, across campus.

As soon as the blankets dropped over his shoulder, he made a quiet humming noise and burrowed his head underneath the pillow.

The next few days passed in a strange haze. Emery was checked in the clinic one last time to make sure the poison was really gone from her system, and then her cuff and Peacemakers were returned to her. Her index finger was still a bit of a mess, but after the swelling went down, functional. The bite was a set of little punctures in her knuckle, and most of the carnage had come from the poison. She could fire her guns, at least, and that was what really mattered. Classes zipped by; it felt like she sat down at her desk, blinked, and everything was over. When she mentioned it to Wes, he had a faraway look in his eyes as he said, “Everything is slow for me. I honestly thought we were in Dream Theory for at least eight hours.”

The only classes that didn’t move quickly were their conditioning class in the morning and weapons handling in the afternoon. Marcia wasn’t there—and Emery hadn’t seen her since the fight with the Sandman in the center of campus—and the substitute they brought in was one of the full-time hunters from the dispatch center down the street. He didn’t work them half as hard as Marcia did, but the exercise helped Emery’s mind calm down.

The weapons handling class slowed down for a different reason. Emery stood at the target range on the west side of the gym, aiming her Peacemaker for the head of the target at the far end but not pulling the trigger. The target walls were soft mats, the targets just images projected onto them. If she shot one in the head, the image changed. Giant snakes, giant spiders, clowns, demons, flocks of birds that took twelve bullets.

Now it was just a man. A normal target, a silhouette, and all Emery could see was the round dark hole appearing in a forehead.

“Emery?”

A small voice broke her unmoving concentration. Edgar stood on the other side of the barrier dividing the firing range from the rest of the gym, peeking around the side. The rest of the class had gone, and a few day division students and full-time dreamhunters had come into the gym to run laps or lift weights. Emery lowered the gun.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Wes was in the Crossing and he said you were standing here staring at the target and I should come talk to you.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence stretched out between them. Edgar edged around the barrier, shuffling his feet, glancing between Emery, the gun still in her hand, and the target down the range.

“Can I try?” he asked.

“Edgar, I don’t know…”

“You let me do it before.”

She had let Edgar use her Peacemakers before, but only because she was stunned that he actually could. Sibling dreamhunters could weild each other’s weapons to some extent—when other dreamhunters tried to use them, they’d become anvil heavy, or start vibrating until they couldn’t be held—but Emery hadn’t really believed it until she’d seen it with her own eyes. His bullets didn’t pull from her subconscious, either; they pulled from his. Where hers streaked through the air a bright deep purple, his were almost blue.

“They’re dangerous, Edgar.”

“I know they’re not toys. I just want to try.”

He’d balled his hands up in the ends of his sleeves and started pressing them together under his chin, and the sight was so unbearably cute Emery had to bite her tongue to keep herself from cooing.

“Alright. Come over here.”

She instructed him to stand where she’d been. He took up the same stance she’d had, shaking his sleeves away from his pale hands, cheeks flushing with color.

“Hands out.”

He put his hands out like he was already holding the gun. Emery held the Peacemaker up.

“You only point this down-range. Understand? Don’t lower it, don’t do anything weird with it, don’t drop it.”

“It can’t go off if I drop it, it won’t fire anything.”

“I don’t care, don’t drop it. Say you understand.”

“I understand.”

Emery carefully fitted the gun between his hands. The sight of him holding it made her gut lurch. She pressed a button on the control panel on the barrier that changed the target—this time to the image of a minotaur—tucked her hands in her armpits, and stepped back.

Edgar already knew how to shoot it. She’d let him try before, and he spent most of his free time researching them. She’d found pictures of them drawn in his notebooks alongside drawings of bigger, more fantastical guns, possibly what he hoped his own weapon would be. He was more excited that her weapons were Peacemakers than she was.

When he squeezed the trigger, there was no bang from the gun, only a flash of blue light and a twige of Edgar’s cheek that Emery knew signaled an emptied chamber. The light struck the minotaur right between the horns. The projected image lit up red, then changed to one of a T-Rex.

Edgar took his time. He never lost focus down the range, never removed either hand from the gun, never got overexcited. His dour seriousness became a cold, calm concentration. Targets ticked past. The only change in him was the steady tensing of his muscles and of his expression as the bullets ran out, and finally Emery reached over and turned off the target projection.

“That’s enough. I can tell you’re getting a headache.”

His cheeks flushed again as she said it; he let her take the Peacemaker from his hands, both sheepish and clearly disappointed it was over. She returned both her Peacemakers to her bracelet and grabbed Edgar around the head, pulling him against her side and leading him out of the gym.

“You’re really good at that, you know? You’re going to be a great dreamhunter.”

“But what if I don’t have guns?” he said.

“You’ll be good with whatever weapon you get.”

He fell quiet as they left the gym and started across the quad. Emery finally released him; he drifted away from her, then returned close to her side like a moon pulled back by gravity.

“Do you think Mom and Dad will come back soon because of everything?” he asked. “Because of, you know, the drawing?”

“No. No one would have told them about that—Grandpa doesn’t even know about it, remember?”

“But if—if it’s real, Mom and Dad could help—”

“Mom and Dad are busy.”

Edgar frowned at his feet.

“And it was only a drawing. We have to get more information before we start jumping to conclusions.”

“Right.”

Emery tugged on Edgar’s collar. “I want them to come back, too, but we’re okay without them.”

He grunted something she didn’t hear.

“Hypnos’s eyeballs, Edgar, you’re so melancholy. If I got you some ice cream or something, would you smile?”

He looked up at her, eyes shadowed and gaunt. “It’s October.”

“So?”

“It’s cold. I don’t like ice cream when it’s cold.”

All the focus he’d had firing the gun was gone. He now looked like he was a hundred miles away, watching her from somewhere deep inside himself.

“Do you feel okay?” she asked.

He nodded. Against the stark autumn landscape, he looked like a skeleton with two bluebell fires for eyes.

“You need to eat more,” she said, because chills had run down her spine and she couldn’t force herself to say anything else, and she put her arm around his shoulders again and pulled him into the Crossing.

Edgar’s haunted face stuck in her mind for the rest of the day. After dinner she stopped by the administration building to talk to Grandpa Al about it, to see if Edgar had recently been to the research center for testing, but David the receptionist said Grandpa Al was out, preparing for the arrival of the Ward representative who would be conducting the annual review of the school.

She left the administration building feeling strangely crushed, like someone was sitting on her chest. As she passed the statue of Fabian Fenhallow and Iltani, she realized she’d been feeling that way since she’d woken up from the poison, but hadn’t given herself a second to think about it. Stretching didn’t help alleviate it, nor did breathing deeply. She rubbed idly at her sternum as she wandered toward Kirkland. When she passed the street in front of the dorm, the building’s front doors swung open and Joel shouldered his way out. He saw her and hopped down the front steps, beaming.

“Em! There you are! I’ve sent you like a million texts.”

Emery looked at her phone. The screen was full.

Hey, I have an idea for something fun we can do. When will you be out of class?

Everyone else is back from dinner, did you stay in the Crossing or something?

Emmmmmm

I’m at Kirkland and you’re still not here.

Emery snorted. As soon as Joel was close enough, she shoved her phone back in her pocket and threw her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she could. He hugged back just as hard, without hesitation and without question. For a moment, the heaviness on her chest lifted.

“What something fun?” she asked.

Joel pulled away from her. His expression was serious, and his hands trailed from her shoulders, down her arms, to her hands. He clasped them both in his and got down on one knee.

“Emery Ashworth,” he said. “Will you help me place a mildly offensive ice sculpture of Fabian Fenhallow and a dolphin on top of the atrium fountain?”

Emery thought she might cry.

“Yes. Yes, of course I will.”

(Next time on The Children of Hypnos —> Shenanigans)

#children of hypnos #eliza and her monsters #nightmare hunters #made you up #francesca zappia #ya #ya lit #books #free #wattpad #reading #dreams #nightmares

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thegirlfromoverthepond · 8 years ago

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The Firebird - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Pretty Woman

Kudos to the Fantastic Four … the team of betas @xerxia31, @dandelion-sunset, @titaniasfics for doing their magic

And to @akai-echo who creates magic beyond words with her aesthetics :)

I can’t believe there’s only 5 chapters left of this story…. And here is the part you’ve all waited for - Everlark’s first date :)

(Here on AO3 // FFN)

She knew she should have followed her instincts, leaving the National via the back exit, instead of the front one. Then she wouldn’t have run into Madge on the stairs. Madge, who did not grill her about her session in the morning, but rather about why she was heading out on a Thursday before noon had even rung.

The biggest mistake Katniss made was admitting she needed to go shopping. It took Madge less than two minutes to coerce the story out of her friend, and volunteer as personal shopper for the afternoon.

The next minute was dedicated to calling Delly, arranging to meet her at the shopping mall because Madge thought reinforcements were more than necessary in this dire situation.

Of course, Katniss didn’t have a say in the matter when General Undersee was in conquest mode.

She found herself in Madge’s car, with her purse and coat, in less than five minutes.

“So, tell me, who did you meet? Is he hot? Do I know him? Does he come from a good family? And what’s that crap with Caesar?” Sometimes, Katniss wondered - really wondered - how her friend could make such long sentences without breathing. She must have some kind of superpower.

“Caesar’s not directing anymore, he was fired.”

“Fired? They’ve never fired anyone before!”

“Well apparently they never fired anyone under Crane, but Plutarch’s different. He wouldn’t stand for Caesar’s behavior, talking to us like we we’re cattle, saying Cinna’s costumes were awful, and hitting on Thresh.”

Madge nodded. “I hope for Flickerman’s sake that Rue never finds out he made a move on her man. She’s kind of intimidating when it comes to Thresh.”

“She is, right? I’m glad she likes me.”

“Rue likes everybody.”

“Thanks, Madge… very helpful.”

“Hey, I’m here, and my cousin will help you, so you’ve got like your own fanclub!”

“Number of members: 2. ‘Cause I’m not including myself.”

“Blah, blah. So, who’s the guy?”

“Did I tell you Plutarch and Haymitch are taking over directing?”

“No. Don’t care. Who are you seeing tonight?”

Katniss sighed.

“A man.”

“Ohh… and HE has a name?”

“He actually has.”

“Annnd??? God, Katniss, you’re the worst! Jesus Chalupa!”

“Peeta.”

“Holy cow, Batman! You’re going out with your tango dancer? Wow, lucky you, he’s hot and handsome! How did that happen? How did he ask you out? Do you know what he has planned for tonight?”

“Wow, calm down, Madge, too many questions….”

“Tell me! No, wait until we’re with Dels, I have to text her!”

“You’re driving, so no texting.”

“Killjoy. So how long do we have to dress you up?”

“I don’t know, an hour?”

Madge nearly killed them both by braking so suddenly, the car behind them hammered on their horn a good ten seconds.

“An hour? For shopping? Katniss, darling, we won’t be done with lingerie in an hour!”

“I already have bras, I don’t need froufrous.”

“You have everyday bras, you need date-worthy underthings.”

“I don’t intend on him seeing them, you know?”

“It’s not about him seeing them. It’s about you wearing them. Feeling sexy and beautiful. You’ll get lingerie, even if that’s all you get today.”

“Madge...”

“Oh, you’re going to turn all scowl-Katniss on me? Well I’m calling Dels, since we don’t have much time.”

“Oh god.” Katniss could feel the blush in her cheeks, didn’t want to think about the high squeal that would surely escape Delly, wasn’t sure whether she could handle so many girly things in so little time.

The Bluetooth did its magic, soon an overexcited Madge was talking to an equally overexcited Delly.

“I KNOW? Right! They are perfect for each other!”

“Dels, we only have one hour. We’re on a mission here.”

“You girls realize I’m sitting in the car, right?” Katniss asked.

“So we divide and conquer. Dels, you take care of the clothes, we’ll be out of Vicky’s Secret in twenty minutes.”

“Wow, Madge, you like a challenge.” Delly said.

“You girls realize I’m sitting in the car, right?” Katniss repeated.

“Yeah, we know, Katniss, but we’re in an emergency situation. Where is Peet taking you?”

“Nowhere, I asked him out.”

“You did! So proud of you, Kat! Look at you, all grown up!” Madge added, winking. “So where are you taking him?”

“Uh, for a drink?”

“She’s hopeless, Maggie.” Delly chimed in.

“Nothing’s hopeless.” Madge turned to her friend, before looking for a spot in the large parking lot. “Katniss. Do you know where you’re taking Peeta?”

“I was thinking Sae’s maybe?”

“Sae’s?”

“Yes? Is there a problem with that? It’s not classy enough for Peeta?” The whole situation was starting to get on Katniss’s nerves, really.

“Dels, I’m hanging up, we’re heading straight to Vicky’s , right?”

“See ya!”

Madge ended the call, putting her hand on Katniss’s arm before she could get out of the car.

“Katniss. We’re here to help you. We’ll tone it down, okay? But we are so excited about this!”

“I can tell…. “

“Well, aren’t you?”

Was she?

The tingling in her belly when she thought about Peeta was all the answer she needed.

Katniss’s eyes grew bigger, her steps slower, as Madge and Delly dragged her towards what she guessed was the VS shop.

Victoria’s Secret.

Aka - the place she’d never been to. Nor had ever wanted to go to.

If she thought clothes shopping with both ladies was a difficult task, going inside VS with them would be something else, something she dreaded a lot.

“Madge…”

“I know. We won’t go over the top, okay? But please, please Kat. Trust me...”

“I don’t know, Madge, I’m not one of those girls, you know that?”

Madge spun so quickly in front of her that Katniss thought she would collide with her friend in the middle of the mall.

“Katniss, I really, really wish that one day you would see yourself the way we see you. You are a dancer, you have an amazing body, you have grace, elegance, and you are so beautiful. Anything in this shop would suit you. Trust me, it’s not vulgar or slutty. You’ll be radiant. Even if Peeta doesn’t see it, what you wear under your clothes will make you feel elegant, confident, and womanly.”

“She’s right, Kat,” Delly chimed in. “The clothes you picked are beautiful, really, but you need to have something other than cotton underwear. Even if it’s not for Peeta.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so…. ”

“We do, Honey.” Honey? Katniss didn’t think she’d been called Honey once in her life - but it was Delly so she shouldn’t really be surprised. “It’s all for you. YOU. Put yourself first, for once. Shine. Be confident and beautiful. Be you. You don’t have to pick anything glittery or feathery, just something you would like to wear. Indulge yourself, Katniss. Let the woman inside you live and breathe.”

The woman inside? Who was Delly talking about?

Astonishment must have shown on her face, as Madge patted her arm gently.

“Isn’t there a part of you, somewhere, that wants to go into this shop?”

“I…”

Was there? she asked herself, trying to listen to her inner self. Behind the walls she had erected , was a young woman who had always wanted to go inside a lingerie shop, wondering what she could find for herself, if she had the money to spend there.

“Then come with us, we will be quick, okay? And if you find nothing you like, that’s okay.”

With the promise of not having to buy anything she didn’t like, she caved, surrendering to her inner young woman, following her friends inside.

She never imagined there could be so many different shapes and colors of bras and panties, enough to fill up an entire store. She honestly didn’t know where to look to find something that she might like.

They took the bags containing Katniss’s clothes for the evening - they had a change of plan deciding it would be better to buy the lingerie after the main outfit was purchased - peeking inside greedily.

“The blouse is really gorgeous, gives that vintage touch that’s so in fashion these days. But Ivory. So, nothing black.”

“Why not?” Katniss asked, surprised. Everything could go with black?

Madge and Delly looked at each other, disappointment evident on their faces.

“No black under white, ivory, cream, not on the first date anyway. Black and red mean ‘Let’s go home and have fun’.”

“It does?” Was that a universally shared fact she wasn’t aware of? Were men aware of that?

“Well, the men have no clue, of course if you’re wondering. It’s the way you wear the lingerie, you know?”

She didn’t.

“Katniss, have you ever worn anything other than plain cotton panties?”

“No, they’re practical?”

“It’s the way you wear it. Black and red used to be the colors of courtesans, and you’re not going that way today. So we’ll stick to ivory or white. Are you okay with that, Katniss?”

“I guess so?”

Did she really have a choice. She realized something hadn’t been mentioned yet, something she would stay firm on.

“No push-ups, though. I don’t have much, I don’t want to give any other impression.”

“Kat, we would never. You’re beautiful the way you are, and you have enough, okay?” Madge said.

“Peeta doesn’t want to date you because of your boobs, but because of who you are,” Delly added. “You don’t know the effect you have on him. Six months ago, he was ready to leave the company to go back working with his family. Then you arrive, Finnick goes away, and here he is, full of ideas for women’s dances, with twice as much enthusiasm as before.”

Could that be because of her? Katniss had trouble believing it.

“There are dozens of reasons why he’s changed, Delly. None of them involve me.”

Delly just shrugged, a small smile on her face, then walked towards the row of bras in front of them.

“Come, they might have something you like here!”

Madge and Delly spent the next fifteen minutes showing Katniss with everything from snow-white to pearl-white, sandy-white, even creamy-white, but nothing found favor in Katniss’s eyes. Nothing. The two girls were bordering on despair, when something caught her attention.

Something on the back wall, a glimpse of color on an otherwise ivory confection. Ignoring her two friends, she walked straight to what she saw, her fingers aching to touch the soft silk, the lace on top of it giving it an elegant touch.

The small orange ribbon woven through the lace, finishing in a cute little bow on the front was the final touch that drew Katniss in.

“This one.” Her tone was decisive. She had found what she wasn’t looking for, what she wasn’t aware she needed, but what belonged on her skin.

She quickly checked the sizes, finding hers, then looked for the matching panties, never looking at her friends who were staring at her with proud smiles on both of their faces.

They couldn’t stop whispering things like “Look, our baby is growing up,” all the way to Katniss’s place.

Madge tried to insist on coming up to help her dress, but Katniss wasn’t going to change her mind on being alone. And there were things she needed to take care of before. Like feeding Buttercup. Or running away to another state. Important things.

First things first. Feeding the Beast. She wouldn’t admit it to anybody and certainly not to her sister, but the mangy cat had grown on her. She had spent so many nights with only him as her only company, the only remaining proof that she wasn’t alone, that she had a little family too.

She wanted a bit of time for herself too. She wasn’t a shopping addict. Far from it. she never ventured into malls more than was necessary, the crowds and incessant noise giving her headaches. She heard enough music every day at work, she needed to indulge in her quiet from time to time.

Time flew as she laid on her couch, peeking through her shopping bags, glad she didn’t succumb to her friend’s pressure of buying heels, instead choosing to wear her almost new pair of boots.

Black jeans, a vintage ivory blouse, and a light green cardigan, along with the underthings. That’s all she took from the bags, all she had purchased.

She made her way to the bathroom, checking the clock above the door. She would have to hurry a bit if she wanted to be on time, since she had to rely on public transportation to get to the Arena. She wanted to take a long, relaxing shower to try to wash away the stress of the date coming. Because there was no denying it this time. It was a date. One she’d asked for.

One she wanted.

One she was pretty sure Peeta wanted too.

Showtime.

Somehow, she made it on time to the Arena, the God of Public Transportation being with her, making the metro connect each time she arrived onto a platform like magic.

Peeta was waiting near the main doors of the theater, the smile on his face growing wide as he saw her approaching, making his eyes sparkle, as if he was lit from inside.

“Katniss...” His voice was soft as he took her in his arms.

They had been close to one another while dancing, he had hugged her several times too, but nothing before had been like this embrace. Closer, warmer, stronger, more familiar. His hands were higher on her back, almost between her shoulders, making small circles there, as if he was clinging to her, for fear of letting her go.

“Hey, Peeta.” Her voice was lost in the space between his neck and his leather jacket, his familiar smell surrounded her, grounding her to the reality of here and now.

She couldn’t identify the feeling coming over her as she pulled away - regret, maybe? She took him in. His hair were still damp from the shower, his blue eyes sparkling, really shining under an unruly lock of hair out of place, his white shirt under his blue sweater, his jeans, and a goddamn leather jacket. She never thought he would own one. It wasn’t a shiny, black one with zippers everywhere, rather than thewell-worn brown one, one that had seen many seasons.

A lot like her own, she realized.

“So, where are we going?” Peeta asked, clumsily shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans as if he didn’t dare do anything with them. Like holding her hand, she thought.

Wait, what did he just ask?

“What?”

“Where are we going?”

She had thought about the clothes, about the way she would look, took time to apply light makeup - so different from the evenings at the National when she had to cover her whole face with it - thought about leaving a bit earlier to be on time, but never thought to tell him where they would go. Never thought whether going to Sae’s was a good idea.

“Oh…. Well… I thought we could go to Sae's but I hadn't really thought beyond that."

Peeta chuckled, running his right hand through his curls. “Well,” he started, “I have an idea, if you’re not done with art for the day.”

“More dancing?”

“No, not music, or dance. Just art.”

“I guess that’s better than hanging out around Starbucks?”

“Oh! You said their name!”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ll tell Dad, and he’ll force you to eat at least ten donuts as a punishment.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Dad’s mean.” He extended his hand to her. “Shall we?”

She didn’t hesitate, taking his hand in hers.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Wonderland.”

“The Botanical Gardens? But it’s closed at night.”

“The main section, yes, but they have an exhibition of sculptures in the Japanese gardens and I’ve wanted to see it, so I thought why not?”

“At night? We won’t see a thing, Peeta!”

“Ah, but ma chère, that’s the main goal. It’s called ‘A Game of Light and Shadows’, you can see it by night or during the day.”

“Very Game of Thrones.”

“Maybe the curator is a fan. Go figure.”

They had chatted during the short drive from Arena to the Gardens, grabbing a sandwich from Sae’s and eating it in Peeta’s car before getting out.

Katniss had expected he would want to hold her hand again, but he settled on instead putting his hand on the small of her back, where she was pretty sure the warmth coming from it would leave a permanent mark.

She wanted to beat him to pay for the entrance (after all, she asked for the date), only to realize to her surprise that it was free of charge, being sponsored by patrons all over town.

She grabbed the two leaflets the hostess handed her, giving one to Peeta, before trying to understand hers.

“This way,” he said, taking her elbow, leading her towards the large sliding glass doors to the Japanese Gardens.

“How do you know?”

“I came during the day.”

“But, it’s going to be the same, are you sure you want to go again?”

“It won’t be the same. This time, I’m with you.”

Peeta led her through the doors, guiding her towards a tall Japanese lantern made of stone. Placed in the middle of a sand garden was the ancient granite construction, unaware of the change of times, of seasons, of men, just waiting night after night to be lit, to fulfill its sole purpose, unmoving. Through the different holes in the stone, Katniss glimpsed, lit by the moon or the stars above. As they progressed nearer to the lantern, the electrical lights faded away until their path was lit only by the small fires inside the sculpture that bathed the grey stone in waves of orange shades.

“Look,” Peeta whispered in Katniss’s ear, as if he didn’t want to disturb the silence around them. Katniss lifted her eyes to the top of the lantern that was painted in red, to see it shining with the sparks of the fire, radiating warmth and light all around. The trees, peaceful spectators of the beauty of the fire, remained safely away, their branches swinging to feed the lights, whispering their music.

She didn’t know how long she stood, bathing in the light, bathing in the fire, watching the flames dance their unscripted routine with the wood, swaying to their own music.

Peeta was at her side, not saying a word, lingering with her as he watched the same spectacle, the same amazement in his eyes.

“Peeta, that’s beautiful…”

“It is… Look at all the shades of colors, I could never make as many hues, it’s incredible.”

“Make? Like colors?”

“Yeah.” He looked like a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I kind of like art.”

Katniss went back to watching the lantern, the fire flickering loosely in the breeze, strong despite the wind.

“I figured. You have a thing for art. Are there other things to see here?”

“Plenty. Come with me.”

Again, his hand was extended for her to take - or not. She didn’t want to miss her chance. She grabbed his hand, the warm feeling of it echoing the fire in the old lantern. Unmovable. Strong. Steady.

He showed her a small river, lit by underwater spotlights, making the water lilies glow as they danced in the current. They discovered statues, the white moonlight only highlighting details that wouldn’t be so apparent under the yellow sun, followed a little path leading to a buddhist temple where people were praying.

They followed the seam of the river, looking at the banks where expertly trimmed bushes were placed here and there, highlighting the beauty of the place, until Katniss’s eyes caught a glimpse of a light.

“Peeta, over there, there’s something!”

“Where?” He started searching around, unsuccessfully, until Katniss dragged him towards the light.

“Here, the light… wow…”

Stumbling behind her, Peeta finally came into the little clearing Katniss had spotted. There was a pond, fed by a tiny stream coming out of dark stone, its presence only revealed by the music of the falling water.

Japanese paper lanterns were scattered around, safely hung from trees, or on pedestals, giving the place a fairy-like touch. The water was lit by two others, placed on the water lilies.

“This is like a fairytale….”

Fireflies, attracted by the light, bumbled in the air, making their way through the heavy foliage of a willow tree, its branches so long they touched the surface of the water.

She felt his intake of breath as he took in the scenery , his hand clutching hers tighter. Turning her head, she saw him looking all around, as if he was trying to capture the beauty of the place in his mind.

“I wish I had my sketchbook…” he whispered, as if not wanting to disturb the peace and silence of the place.

“So you draw?” Katniss asked.

“Yeah, when I have a bit of time.”

“You do have an eye for beauty.”

He nodded. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She tookin the scenery in front of her, before glancing at him again. But he wasn’t looking at the pond or the willows or the lanterns. He was looking at her.

“Peeta?”

“You don't know, do you? The effect you have?” he whispered, his hand moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Dance with me, Katniss. Please?” He tugged at the hand he held.

“There’s no music.”

“Does it matter?”

She realized it didn’t. She took his hand, but before they began, she removed her boots, wanting to feel the grass under her feet. He chuckled before doing exactly the same thing, toeing off his Vann’s, before pulling her closer.

She felt his heartbeat against her chest as they started to move together, bathed in the moonlight and the water lights, following a rhythm only they could feel. Their eyes were locked, lost in one another, telling each other stories they didn’t dare share out loud.

Their lips found each other in the same movement, as they continued dancing.

Katniss didn’t know who started the kiss, or who stopped it. One moment, her lips were covered by his, warm and soft, and the next, they weren’t. She could feel the breeze instead of Peeta, the smell of him all around her, but she missed him, his contact.

Opening her eyes, she found the blue of his looking into hers, as if asking for something, for permission, maybe? She wanted to lean in, to feel him against her lips, but he decided otherwise, making her spin before catching her in his arms.

She couldn’t help but laugh, the feel of the grass on the soles of her feet tickling her, the light of the moon in the sky highlighting his blond hair, the warmth of his hands reviving her body. She laughed and he smiled, watching her turn in his arms, her long locks free, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Katniss’s mind was only focused on the here and now, on the feelings that threatened to explode out of her body, feelings she thought were long gone, never to be seen again. She was glad to have been wrong.

She wanted more, though. More than a peck on the lips. She wanted to know what really kissing Peeta would feel like.

But right now Peeta seemed to be focused on making her dance, spinning her, dipping her, not caring about their discarded shoes, or how the grass was wetting the hems of their trousers. They danced to a music without tune, without beat, but they knew the song, they could feel it, no indications needed.

Katniss smiled, her head spinning, but she wanted more, needed more. She stilled in Peeta’s arms, not taking his cue to turn again. Around them, fireflies were still dancing. She leaned forward, her lips touching his again, and it felt like going someplace she’d always known, so close to her heart. This time though, she let her lips explore his, lingering on the creases of his lips, discovering them, as if she wanted to commit them to her memories. He didn’t hesitate in reciprocating, searching her lips as if to map them, with a hunger, a greed that surprised her.

Katniss felt a moan starting in the back of her throat, and was unable to stifle it, unable to think about anything other than his lips on hers, until she felt his tongue tracing her mouth. She didn’t hesitate, parting her lips to let him in, to welcome him, taking the chance to chase after him too. His hands let hers go, and climbed to cup her face, his thumbs caressing the soft planes of her cheeks, fingers splayed on her jaw, anchoring her to him as their tongues danced to a score they seemed to have known since the dawn of time.

Her head started to spin, more than she had while dancing in Peeta’s arms.

She should have known he would be the one making her spin with joy like the little girl she once had been.

She didn’t mind.

At all.

#Everlark #Everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #thg #everlark fanfic #Ballerina!Katniss #TangoDancer!Peeta #the firebird #things I write

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

Aboard the Hogwart Express

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Harry awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express. He, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed. "Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!" Harry flattened himself against the wall as Mr. Weasley came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When Harry and the others entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously in the drawers - "I've got a quill here somewhere!" - and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking to - Harry shut his eyes hard and opened them again to make sure that they were working properly. Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears. "...Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there -" "Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands. "- it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory's head. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off - if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur -" "What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes. Mr. Diggory's head rolled its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins." "What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, scribbling frantically. "Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up -" Mr. Weasley groaned. "And what about the intruder?" "Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory's head, rolling its eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it - think of his record - we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department - what are exploding dustbins worth?" "Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?" "I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties." "All right, I'm off," Mr. Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again. Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Mrs. Weasley. "Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything...but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night..." "Never mind, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?" "Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory. Mrs. Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. "Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished. Harry could hear Mr. Weasley calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair. "I'd better hurry - you have a good term, boys, said Mr. Weasley to Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?" "Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine." As Mr. Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen. "Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now." "He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs. Weasley. "Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter -" "Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly. "Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather...." "Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill. "He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie. "Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything...." "Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry. "He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best...a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though...the families of people he caught, mainly...and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere." Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work. "I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me." "Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon." Mrs. Weasley had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take them into London. "Arthur tried to borrow Ministry cars for us," Mrs. Weasley whispered to Harry as they stood in the rain-washed yard, watching the taxi drivers heaving six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars. "But there weren't any to spare....Oh dear, they don't look happy, do they?" Harry didn't like to tell Mrs. Weasley that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg. The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that they were jammed in the back of the taxis with their trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time they entered London, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all severely scratched. They were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and they got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station. Harry was used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. They did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it...and as they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of them. The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off to find seats, and were soon stowing their luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. They then hopped back down onto the platform to say good-bye to Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie. "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye. "Why?" said Fred keenly. "You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it...it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all." "Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train. "Why?" said George impatiently. "You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it." "A bit of what?" said Ron. But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors. "Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her. "Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with...one thing and another." "Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?" "You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -" "What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you....Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?" The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move. "Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?" But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated. Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting. "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -" "Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door. "...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do...." Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice. "So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him." "Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry. "Yes," said Hermione sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." "I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?" "Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows. "Er - why not?" said Harry. "There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?" "But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione, in surprise. "Everyone knows that...well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway." "Just you, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?" "It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE." "So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?" "Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -" "Come again?" "Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?" "Er...if you say so," said Harry. "But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms." "Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident....Shame his mother likes him...." The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share. Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm. Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match. "Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though." "It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville..." He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum. "Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand. "We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box -" "For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar. "Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly. "Weasley...what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious. Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled. "Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..." "Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly. "So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won...." "What are you talking about?" snapped Ron. "Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?" "Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face "Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago...heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry....Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley...yes...they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him...." Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared. Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered. "Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door. "Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't...." Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'...Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is...." "Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -" "Him! Get to me!? As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp. Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station. As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads. "Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform. "All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!" First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid. "Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

#GobletofFire #HarryPotter

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