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Post by lookjedi on Sept 24, 2011 18:50:24 GMT -5
This had never been her intention. Katniss had never really thought that she would have landed a job, forcefully, at the Three Broomsticks but that was just her luck. She didn’t believe in luck but that was aside the point. As a thirteen year old, no matter how prepared she was for everything, Katniss didn’t think that she would blow up a bar. That left an everlasting impression on the owner of the Three Broomsticks, and thus she was subjected to child labour. “… don’t even start…” she muttered to the shrunken heads as she busied herself. She had never really like the job but she couldn’t complain. It was actually something that she seemed to enjoy after a while. The brunette had honestly forgotten what it was like to be social with people, especially people that she didn’t know. It was an ill gotten luxury that she had been stripped of just before her third year. It was just one thing after another with her when it came to that year, but some good came out of it, she supposed. She was gifted with a distraction that was ultimately wrecked by James Potter at least once a month, but still something that she enjoyed, which was more than she could say about most things. She was miserable at best. The brunette dearly wished that everything would be okay sometimes but that was just wishful thinking and she never did that or she never admitted it anyway. She was just the slightest bit strange. Katniss was rather convinced that things would be better off once she disappeared off the face of the map. Who would honestly go and try and find her if she did?
It was always an entertaining thought to her, if only for a few fleeting moments as she shuffled around the pub. It was the only thing that would keep her entertained for a short amount of time as she did meaningless tasks from serving drinks to clearing tables. It wasn’t exactly fun for her, it was just work – really boring, tedious tasks. It was her job though, it had been her job for four years and things had just been piling up for her, as much as she didn’t want it to pile up like it did. It was an odd feeling to actually admit it buts he just felt like she was standing still now. It wasn’t exactly how she wanted to live, but she supposed that it was all catching up to her now. It had to be the fact that everything was catching up to her now. There was no other logical explanation or irrational cause, for that matter. It was just how it was; there was no skirting around the truth. It was hard to skirt around the truth when it thrown, brutally, at your face without your consent. The need for feelings was starting to catch up to her, well the feeling that wasn’t rage or anger, anyway. Anger was probably the only other emotion that she allowed herself to feel, everything else, well she was very upfront about it.
Sarcasm was her way of life; it was a defense mechanism… like everything else in her life. Everything she ever did was to avoid the inevitable, which was almost as difficult as avoiding an oncoming train ten feet away from you without magic or a flying car. She did all she could to avoid pain – all the drugs, the sarcasm, the keeping people an arm’s length away to avoid attachment, all of it was starting to crumble at her touch. Perhaps it was time to stop with everything, take off the disguise, climb back over the wall and tell the truth about everything. She needed to take that wall down, break apart all of the lies and finally start to see out and let other people in. Maybe that was all she needed to do now. Or, maybe not.
“Katniss, pay attention.”
She snapped out of her thoughts. It wasn’t really that hard to do when it came right down to it. Her thoughts were growing smaller in her eyes as she noticed the small waving out of the corner of her eye. Straighten herself, she looked over to the waver, a man. He had been at the Three Broomsticks before and she dreaded it. It was just one those patrons that all the barmaids hated and because of that he was dropped on to Katniss. Her suffering continued. “I’ll be with you in one moment, sir.” Katniss chimed in, setting down as glass of butter beer in front of one of the patrons. After that, she grudgingly moved towards the half-knackered-half-pissed patron, swaying a bit in his chair. “Fine mornin’ innit?” the man said with a wide set grin on his face, his eyes slightly glossed over from the copious amount of fire whiskey, Katniss believed – by the smell on his breath. “Nearly ‘noon, and you’ve had enough to sink ship, I’m ‘fraid.” she muttered, code-switching her accent a bit to deal with the patron who was nearly too drunk to sit, or stand for that matter.
He was always like this, from what Katniss had observed. He had always had just a little too much to drink and when that happened, well, he tended to hit on anything with legs and a rather pleasing chest. “Could I get ‘nother shot, ‘ove?” the slimy smile growing slightly larger as he his large, slightly calloused, hand settled on her outer thigh, causing her to tense a bit. “’fraid I can’t.” she said, stepping away slightly as he copped a feel. Katniss was never want to play with her hair and smile brightly to get what she wanted or get away from what she didn’t want. She just dealt with things and since she couldn’t exactly slap the bastard, she just inched away slightly, “Perhaps you should talk to the Madame,” she said swatting slightly as the Madame glanced over, which made the hand flew far from its previous position as another costumer came into the enclosed space.
Shifting away a little more, Katniss cleared her throat as she adjusted her lack of clothing, her eyes towards the door. “Yes?” she muttered, peeking up at the person.
words; 1066, tags; open, notes; normal day at work, getting hit on by boozed up old men... this is a terrible post. I hate starting threads, Katniss is going to unleash worlds of hurt. WORLDS of it. outfit; barmaid attire. small dress mid-thigh with a corset, low cut top, colour that matches the Three Broomstick banner.
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Post by dana1 on Oct 30, 2011 21:17:57 GMT -5
James Potter trudged through the crowd of Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade, his scarlet and gold scarf hung loosely around his neck. He wasn’t in a particular rush to go anywhere – in fact, he never was, since James was confident the world would wait for him – but he moved with a purpose, dodging his fellow students and townsfolk alike until the familiar symbol of the restaurant he’d been heading toward entered his line of sight: The Three Broomsticks. Normally, James would’ve preferred to go in with his mates – Tristan and Audric, mostly – but today, they were off somewhere else, and James couldn’t be particularly bothered to find them. (Nothing against his mates; James was just a lazy arse that day.)
The dull roar of the bar greeted the dark-haired seventh year as he opened the door and stepped into the considerably warmer restaurant. It was already crowded, but one person made little difference; he spotted an empty table with a single chair and slid into it, taking off scarlet mittens as he did. (It hadn’t been his choice to buy them, but his grandmother had knitted them, and he’d rather lose an arm and a leg than sadden his grandma Molly.) His blue eyes searched the crowd for a sign of the reason of his presence, but the throng of people made the search longer. Finally, James spotted her, talking to some seedy old man who looked far too old and drunk to be sitting at the bar with impressionable third years. His eyes roamed appreciatively over the barmaid uniform, lingering in places that would have surely warranted a smack if Nissy knew that he was staring. James was aware of the deal that she and the Madame had – after all, Katniss Williams blowing up The Three Broomsticks had been the only thing people had talked about for a week – but instead of feeling sympathetic toward her forced labor, James capitalized on it. In fact, with the amount of time he spent in the bar during his Hogsmeade visits, he might as well just be showering the establishment with galleons. (His father would not be pleased when James asked for some more monthly allowance.)
James cut his eyes away from Katniss for a moment, aware that what he was doing could probably be construed as stalking. Still, if he was to figure out her weakness – his cheeks still colored as he remembered how flustered he’d been – he would have to be observant. He caught another girl’s gaze – pretty, brunette, though her eyes weren’t quite light enough – and gave her his signature smirk before flicking back to Katniss. Daily eyefuck, check.
She was still talking to the old man, and James frowned a little as he saw the man sway slightly in his seat. Something didn’t settle right, and James leaned forward a little more, squinting a little to see in more clarity what was transpiring between them. He saw the slight shift in the man’s posture and instinctively, James threw his seat back, knocking into the bar goers behind him, and stood abruptly. He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that the old man clearly had no control over his hormones (though who was James to judge, really) or that she’d just.. taken it. Without meaning to, James’s legs moved him forward, pushing through the crowd rather rudely. His body seemed to have taken it upon itself to propel him into awkward situations, and it wasn’t until he was in front of her did James’s mind manage to take control again.
“… Hi,” he said in a very un-James Potter-y manner. His mind was only on two things at the moment: Katniss and her skimpy outfit (which drew his eyes’ attention as well), and the lack of things he had to say. “I, uh, I need a drink, Nissy.” That was somewhat better, though he sounded like a self-righteous, spoilt child. “I didn’t know how poorly you treated a usual customer.” It took a bit longer than normal – two whole sentences longer! – but James finally got the snark back in his voice and the confident smirk back on his face. “I’d like my usual please,” he told her arrogantly, holding up his last few galleons and reaching out to press them into her hand. James ignored the old man completely, but he hoped the chilly mental projection he was sending to the drunk would be enough to show his displeasure. “And don’t keep me waiting.”
omgwhatisthiscrap
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Post by lookjedi on Oct 31, 2011 0:36:43 GMT -5
There she was, just counting down the days until she would be free of this place, as much as it had started to grow on her. She liked things that were familiar with her, buts he could do without the Three Broomsticks after her stay was over. She would be elated to remove herself from the establishment once things were finally settled between the Madame and her, and then she would never have to work in a bar establishment again. That was her only prayer now, it was the only hope that she actually had and it was a truthful one at that: score two for Katniss. To be honest, she was just hoping to get off on good behaviour at this point. Working at the Three Broomsticks, at least for her, was like being in prison, the only difference was that it was always visiting hour. Katniss didn’t know what she found worse when she thought about that, the fact that there were people there to see her or the fact that she still had to work. Either way it wasn’t a party and she called her life what it was: hell. That was about all she could do to keep herself sane, which was still limited in all regards since she wasn’t really sane to begin with; she just wanted to keep her sanity where it was without having it deteriorate further. Either way, she was determined not to make a fuss today, or in the coming days to see if she could get out of this hellhole.
Of course, things were only made worse and worse as the day went on. There was really no stopping it, no matter how hard she tried. As if her pitiful excuse for an existence wasn’t enough to sway whatever greater power was up there, they had to throw James Potter at her too. On any given day it would have been a walk in the park for her, but now, no – she had to be nice to him. It was like a trial by fire, Merlin, could this day get any worse. Then again, he was actually trying to help this time around, which was surprising and out of character but that didn’t seem to bother as much as it would have if not for the fact that she found herself in such a situation. It was quite the peculiar situation but one that she would have to deal with in such a manner. “… you and every other patron in here…” Katniss said, shifting way from the lecher as she turned towards James. The only thing that she could remember about him, at the moment, was how flustered he seemed when he couldn’t get a rise out of her (she still had he pictures to prove it). Moving a bit further away, she shook her head, “You’re hardly what one could call usual,” she added, looking back at the older man for a second before the Madame made her way over. “But if you must, go have a seat…” she gestured back to where he unceremoniously threw his chair at one of the other bar goes. She hoped that he would be angry with James as to cut down his self-righteous aid attempt.
Katniss tried her best to disassociate herself from the likes of him but it was rather had since he seemed to like stalking her so much now (and only Merlin knows why). It wasn’t exactly fun for her, seeing him around every place that she went but she tried her best to ignore it when she could. James was an arrogance piece of shit that never liked to give up on anything and Katniss had, foolishly, given him a reason to stick around. He was trying to find her weak spot.
Now, many would say that the brunette didn’t have a weak spot at all, it was like a myth; a legend of ole. It simply did not exist as it weird, but really Katniss didn’t do much advertising when it came to such things. All the same she took the coins from him with a sigh, “Firewhiskey on the lap?” she jested, though in all seriousness that was usually what it was. By the time that James had entered the Three Broomsticks when she was working on any given day she was almost as wound up as anyone could get her and usually James’s snarky remarks always sent her over the top, but today… she was just grateful. Well, she was grateful for the most part as she trotted away to get him a drink. It meant that she wouldn’t have to deal with the other patron and that she could leave James for a few moments.
Depositing the coins in the cash, she took her sweet time getting the drink for James. It was more for her sake than his, but still, she took any opportunity she could get being away from the crowds and alone with her thoughts. After a while five minutes, Katniss returned with firewhiskey in hand. Carefully, she put it on the table so she really wouldn’t be tempted to ‘accidently’ drop it on his lap like the countless times before. “Anything else, or have you just come to annoy me again, blushing Potter?”
words; cbb, tags; dana & kiddie pool, notes; Katniss is all like... FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN. What is this crap... ohmygale. outfit; barmaid attire. small dress mid-thigh with a corset, low cut top, colour that matches the Three Broomstick banner.
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Post by dana1 on Nov 2, 2011 19:32:18 GMT -5
Just looking at Katniss again made James’s skin prickle; his body remembered the rare and unfamiliar feeling of having a blush spread over his cheeks, and seeing her acted as trigger. He had to beat down the rising flush with all of his willpower, and whatever last dredges of that he had left was used to keep the cocky smirk on his face. “I am a usual though,” he called after her retreating back, though there was a reasonably friendly grin on his face that would – hopefully – negate the arrogance in his tone; after all, James liked to think he wasn’t a total ass. “After all, you know my drink and just the way I like it.” There was a genuine grin on his face now as he recalled every “accident” where his drink had ended up on his lap. After the last time, James had taken to bringing an extra change of robes whenever he decided to annoy Nissy at her job.
He kept the grin all the way back to his empty seat and abandoned mittens; the person behind his haphazardly thrown chair shot him a dirty look, but James couldn’t be bothered to give him more than a half-assed apology. His eyes continually scanned the crowded bar, almost instinctively looking for her. Although James would never admit it to anyone – he hardly liked to admit it to himself – he enjoyed her company, and with the added challenge of finding her weakness, he had yet another excuse to see her frustrated, annoyed, or any other feeling she deigned to show him. Hanging around here longer than needed was only for the sake of the challenge, James reminded himself as he took his seat, lounging more comfortably now that he saw the Madame giving the old lecher a vicious lashing with her tongue. After all, this was yet another game in James’s life, and he fancied himself rather good at games, particularly ones that involved the opposite sex.
James finally spotted her coming toward him, and, on instinct, his eyes started to rove lazily over her. The bar maid uniform suited her, and he decided then and there that if he ever found her weakness, he’d exploit it so she’d be forced to wear that thing whenever he was around. At that thought, James couldn’t help a small, wicked grin from stealing across his face. That ideal was yet another thing fueling the seventh year Gryffindor in this little challenge of theirs. “Now what am I going to do with my extra robes?” James pretended to despair as his eyes followed her arm placing his drink carefully onto the table. An appropriately dismayed expression accompanied his words, but his imitated gloom slipped into a terrible scowl as she referenced their excursion in the library.
“I was not blushing,” James blustered, the illusion of Katniss personally waiting on him in her work uniform vanishing as the unpleasant memory of his apparent weakness and failure returned to him. He’d never before been unable to charm a woman (at least, in his opinion), but Katniss had proved him wrong. It was a hit to his weakest point: his ego. That was partially why James had initiated the challenge; it wasn’t fair for her to know his weakness but not vice versa. James leaned forward and gripped the glass tightly, attempting to remain silent and above her taunts. “Besides,” he finally burst out, unable to help himself, “I don’t believe you didn’t feel a thing when I was seducing you.” Well, that came out a little more bluntly than he’d expected, but what else could James call the kisses he’d given her in the library? It certainly didn’t have to do with feelings (his chest and whatever was in it be damned); no, this was definitely a simple game.
trololol, james. just.. just james.
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 2, 2011 22:06:21 GMT -5
It was distressing really, how close she had gotten to James in the last month or so. She had never been close enough with anyone to feel anything that was lasting but this was different. He was making her feel more than she allowed to at any point in her life, even more than when she was around her, supposed, friends. It was just another thing that she didn’t understand and it would be the death of her. Anomalies bugged her but it didn’t mean that she didn’t like solving them. She had to solve them or at least understand them and she supposed that this was just another one of those days. James Potter had got under her skin but it wasn’t all that bad yet, she hadn’t started to feel the one thing that she dreaded more than anything else in the whole world. She was still safe. The only problem was that he wouldn’t go away. No matter how much she tried to push him away or snap at him, he wouldn’t go away and leave her be. Katniss just wanted to be left alone, but everywhere she turned there was another person that wanted to be her friend or talk to her even though she was clearly not that nice – she was terrible and an ass but somehow people wanted to change her. People always wanted to change what they thought couldn’t be saved. It was funny really.
She did fine on her own, she never needed to help with anything before and she could have dealt with the patron by herself but James had to intervene. Why wasn’t she angry with him? It couldn’t have been because she had started to get comfortable around him with ever encounter they’ve had this year, no, that couldn’t have been it. She wouldn’t allow herself to have that but she was starting to have her doubts especially when it came to how she admitted that she never hated him. That is where it all started, now that she remembered. She had even talked, briefly, with Tristan about it. It couldn’t have been true, she never got used to anyone, the closest she ever got to was Victoire and even then that was because she proclaimed them to be friends. She didn’t have friends though, she was so wounded up with her past and how she lived that friends were never an option for her, they were just objects. The more that Katniss thought about it though, James didn’t seem like an object at all, he was something more… or less, she wasn’t sure.
Bets, dares, challenges and games that was how she lived. She thought of life as one big game and nothing more. It was a pride game and that was how she saw it, because nothing mattered more than her pride – at least when it came to what really mattered to her. Maybe that was why she made that bet with James, not because she was comforted by him. It was because she cared more about the game than anything else in the world. Katniss was the best at games, there was no competition. The game was on.
“What you’re going to do is nothing.” Katniss said flatly, looking towards James and his pitiful excuse for despair. He wouldn’t have known despair if it slapped him in the face. “You could give them to someone who needs them, that is an option too.” she added, thinking that it was a better answer than the first. Shifting uncomfortably at James’s looks, Katniss felt exposed. She felt more exposed than actually being naked in a room, she blamed it on his eyes and how they traced patterns across her skin like it was nothing – like he was soaking something in. She grit her teeth, she was determined to keep her eye contact. “You were so blushing, I have a picture and I can show it to everyone.” she grinned down at him. She almost felt accomplished because she could do this to James, but what he did to her was something far greater that she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of.
Knowing James’s weakness, alone, was the single most entertaining thing that she could think of at the moment and honestly she couldn’t be happier to have known it. “You know… I don’t I have ever heard you that silent before… at least I think that is the longest that you have stayed silent in my presence.” she smiled, her eyes scanning over his face. “My, aren’t you being blunt.” she purred, leaning down a bit, careful not to too much because of how short the uniform was. “Potter, you, of all people should know that I don’t feel anything.” The corner of her lip twitched, leaning forward a touch more catching his eye. “Seducing or not, it’s all a game…” she paused, “Any bright ideas?” She didn’t believe in feelings (even though her heart was saying differently at the moment), kissing or otherwise. Katniss didn’t deserve to have feelings or be close to anyone, what she deserved was a way out of this—and by this, she meant everything.
words; cbb, tags; dana & kiddie pool, notes; so touchy James. outfit; barmaid attire. small dress mid-thigh with a corset, low cut top, colour that matches the Three Broomstick banner.
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Post by dana1 on Nov 3, 2011 20:06:24 GMT -5
James had always counted himself likeable, at least by some standard. He was quidditch captain and chaser, good looking, a Potter for Merlin’s sake, and he wasn’t shy about feelings, advances, or whatever have you. His ego was fit to burst with how much pride and arrogance the seventh year Gryffindor had; it helped him float in stormy seas, not unlike the rough schedule of a seventh year. It didn’t matter if James failed his classes or if he was overwhelmed with work. He was fucking James Potter, and in his world, time stopped for him. That was why he never ran to avoid being late to class, why he didn’t bother to do thing as soon as they were assigned; when you had all the time in the world, why hurry?
His feelings reflected this mindset; James had no need for any more intimacy than what a woman could offer in a night, and after that, they were either pushed firmly away – James only enjoyed boundaries when he set them – or kept around as friends. He was in no rush, as some people his age were, to enter what they’d call a “serious relationship”. Teddy may have owled him early contesting this belief (James honestly had sent the last owl and felt rather sick with what his god-brother had written him), but the seventh year wasn’t inclined to believe it. Not yet, anyway. James lived under the impression he was invincible at seventeen, and he was going to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible.
“But then I’d be down a set of robes, and what would Mum say?” he asked rhetorically, giving a dramatic shrug of his shoulders and leaning back in his chair. Another hot feeling rushed to his face, and James had to take a deep, forced breath to keep the red from seeping into his face again. “I was not,” he protested hotly, shifting forward and crossing his arms tightly on the table’s edge. His body language had changed from languid and carefree to tightly coiled, frustrated at both the leverage she had over him and the lack of he had over her. Even his toes curled in his shoes. “Don’t show anyone that picture!” If there was one thing that James couldn’t live with, it was ridicule. It was a foreign feeling, and the few moments James had felt it (to his knowledge, anyway) made the seventeen year old’s stomach churn. A note of desperation had slipped into the plea, and James bit off the accompanying threat, stunned into silence.
And then she was smiling. James’s silence seemed to be perfectly timed, because if he’d been talking, he would’ve been cut off mid-sentence. She bent down, and James practically had a field day with the fantasies that seemed to accompany her presence. His eyes slid down from her eyes to her body then dragged back up again, aware that she was probably conscious of his indecent looks. She leaned forward even more, and James, with unprecedented strength, kept their gazes locked. “You feel something,” he murmured, leaning forward a little more. The events in the library rushed back to him as his eyes moved and (his will wasn’t that strong) settled on her lips. “I just don’t know what it’s called yet. But once I do, I’m going exploit it.” He was being unusually frank, but James always believed in fair play. Whereas Slytherins and Ravenclaws might’ve dealt in riddles and tricks, James – aside from his pranking and practical jokes – always believed in a clear, even playing field when among friends. It might’ve sounded simple minded, but he figured he’d want his opponent to do the same to him. There was no glory in winning something underhandedly, and James lived off glory like others lived off food.
“I’ve considered possibilities,” he continued, raising his voice a little to accommodate another group of customers. “Some of them include you and me alone in the library again.” A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Others are regrettably cleaner.”
can you just disregard the first three paragraphs, because i'm pretty sure they don't make sense at all
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 3, 2011 22:57:49 GMT -5
Katniss was a con, a liar, apathetic, sarcastic, harshly blunt, and short on patience, among other things – what she wasn’t was friendly or likable. She was hardly the type of person you could call a friends if it came down to things and you would most certainly never make her your friends. Katniss has a habit of throwing people under buses, metaphorically speaking (so far), if she didn’t need you and she had done it time and time again to people that call her their friends. It was honestly to show people that she didn’t need anyone and that she was fine with being on her own without anyone trying to change her or convince her otherwise. Many a stupider person had to change her ways but nothing really seemed to stick and it wasn’t from a lack of trying either – Katniss was just obstinate. In her eyes she didn’t ever need to be liked by anyone, if anything she was trying to chase people away, but apparently it didn’t really help at all, perhaps it was just a Gryffindor thing. Yes, that must have been it. Maybe it was they were fearless and idiotic, in any case, she didn’t think of any of them as friends and she would continue to state this, much to their displeasure or, in the case of Tristan, ignorance. Why were they so attracted to her? Surely they couldn’t have all been attracted to her because of her neediness? That would have turned them all into Victoire Weasley, to be sure. Either way, her feelings were her own and she couldn’t easily just fix what little she had right now she didn’t really care all that much, in any way.
Being one to manage her feelings and urges quiet well, Katniss didn’t care for romance or relationships. She really only focused on caring for herself, if she cared for another human being there would have to be something wrong with her. Don’t get her wrong, the brunette cared about some things but at the shallowest of levels. She put more thought behind matters of the brain than anything else in the world; she didn’t care about anything really. If she cared more than she ever cared to say she would surely feel pain and that wasn’t something that she was willing to open. She had avoided it all over her life, why would she possible stop now? She had spoken to people before about serious relationships and if she really wanted one someday, which she denied like the profession she was. She was more interested in the drinks that she could have and the surface feelings. Sex was just sex and relationships were for idiots, just like marriage was the last legal form of slavery. She was actually one to talk considering her mother obviously felt the same way. It was what caused a falling out with her ‘father’ and she never wanted a relationship like that.
“No matter how much you protest, I have blackmail.” she hummed, ignoring his first—obviously rhetorical—question. The pseudo-barmaid raised a brow looking towards him for a moment as he took deep breaths in. He was fighting back the blushing, from what she gathered, which was quite right. He didn’t need to blush everywhere. It wouldn’t do her anything if she blushed in public; that would render her blackmail obsolete, well if another person took a picture… that was. “And I won’t, not yet anyway.” Katniss stated calmly, lifting her eyes to glance around the room trying to figure out if anyone really knew what they were talking about. When she was sure that they weren’t she looked back at him, rather sure that he was drinking in her figure again. James had a habit of staring, from what she could tell, but that wasn’t really a sign of anything. He was just a hormonal teenager, if not like the rest of them. Surely his loins were set aflame as his eyes roved lower and lower.
The Ravenclaw never thought much about her figure, she just sort of inherited it from her mother. She didn’t really find that she did much to maintain it either, well between smoking and the running that she did (it was very counterproductive). “Most wouldn’t call me right in the head… nothing but shallow emotion, I’m afraid.” she muttered back as she thought about the roving eyes and all the little kisses. “I’m sure that you will, you wouldn’t be a James Potter otherwise.” Sure, Katniss liked to speak in riddles, and play tricks on everyone that she met but this was more than something simple. She was blunt enough to give him all the information but the key ones. “I can think of a few… ideas on how to could exploit it.” she murmured, straightening up to fix the skirt of the outfit. Was James honestly trying to get her to play fairly? Katniss was a con, she could pick locks and pockets with ease and he wanted her to play fair like a good little girl? No, that wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t mean he had to know that.
“Possibilities?” the brunette tilted her head, looking around for a moment to wave at the Madame. “Oh shush.” she grumbled to him, before sliding into the seat across from him. “… James, we both know you would never set foot in the library, even if it was for some possibilities. Would you honestly want to go back?” she asked, reluctantly not bring up the blushing bit again. Then she furrowed her brows, “And even if you did, only in your fantasies.” She was pretty it was already in his fantasies, but still. “Any you’re willing to try now… or… shall I just ditch work now?” Katniss was growing bored, she was done with being nice for the day.
words; cbb, tags; dana & kiddie pool, notes; what is this crap. outfit; barmaid attire. small dress mid-thigh with a corset, low cut top, colour that matches the Three Broomstick banner.
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Post by dana1 on Nov 12, 2011 2:26:26 GMT -5
A barmaid. James always made sure to thank his lucky stars when his eyes dragged lazily over Katniss as he stalked watched her during his Hogsmeade visits. The short dress with the corset and the low dip of her collar left no doubt as to the reason for The Three Broomsticks’ influx of customers. Katniss could’ve blown up any store in Hogsmeade in their third year – James remembered the incident well-enough, but memories of fleeting kisses triumphed over a clearer recollection – and could have landed a job with an unappealing uniform (Zonko’s, for example, required longer hems and shorter collars), but by some lucky chance, she’d become a barmaid. This had thrilled the thirteen year old James more than it probably should have, but even at seventeen, the small thrill at seeing her outside of her robes (and regrettably in something else) hadn’t quite yet vanished.
The little rush was still there, but at the mention of his blackmail-that-must-not-be-named, the sharp indignation and embarrassment smothered it, leaving James in an odd combination of irritation and attraction (purely physical of course; James would rather not tangle himself in the convoluted dealings of a relationship). The Potter boy didn’t deign to respond; he just kept his chin up and stared down the length of his nose at her. He’d already let her see his weak spot – blushing was, after all, such an obvious outward sign of inward feeling – but he decided to not allow her to see the exploitative possibilities that the knowledge could provide. (Not that James thought for a second she’d already figured it out; she was, after all, Katniss Williams.) At least she wouldn’t show the pictures for a while, which would buy James some time to plan out her own weakness with which he could retaliate.
“Shallow emotions usually have deeper roots,” he replied matter-of-factly, a small smirk on his face. He leaned forward, confidence replacing the sullenness and childishness that James had adopted only a few moments earlier. “So, if you felt something, that’s probably saying something.” James thought he heard a bit of wistfulness in his voice but quickly dismissed it; he wanted her to show him something more than just her blank face, that’s all. After all, that was more or less the object of their little competition. “Ideas?” He echoed, as if he hadn’t heard her, arching an eyebrow and pulling up the right side of his mouth to smirk. “By all means, share them.”
Why James was even bothering with this game, he didn’t know. Well.. he did, but not the reason behind even initiating it in the first place. James continued with competitions and games because, naturally, he wanted to win, but Katniss should have held no allure for him. She was pretty, yes, but so were most of the girls at Hogwarts, and James would bet his Firebolt half of them would have been more willing. And yet, here he was and here he had been for the past seven years, striking up idle conversation and sometimes barbed remarks with a girl who felt nothing.
She took the seat opposite from him, and James grinned a little wider at her grumble. “True enough,” he admitted with a noncommittal shrug. Besides, the library was a boring place with too many a wandering eye to catch them in whatever act James concocted. He was a selfish bastard; James wanted her weakness all to himself. “Trust me, Nissy, the library isn’t in any of my fantasies,” he assured her, leaning back to sprawl lazily over his chair. “A bed, though, that could be a different story.”
At her suggestion, James let his shock seep through his smirk; his eyebrows tented and his smirk lost a bit of its curve. However, he was definitely pleased with how forward she seemed to be in allowing him situations that would test for her weakness. She was cooperating, it seemed, and James didn’t bother to question it. He’d take whatever she gave him. “Yeah, alright then,” he agreed, his mind racing to catch the numerous wild fantasies that had popped into his mind after she suggested that he implement of a possibility. (Maybe Katniss was right about things being only in his fantasies; the girl in his ideas did things that James was positive Katniss would never even think of.) His mind settled on a simple, straightforward one that could be changed if the situation demanded it. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he suggested, casting an eye around the crowded bar. It was probably too noisy for their conversation to attract attention, but James would rather not take the risk of someone overhearing. His last bargaining chip would then be rendered useless. Besides, James got the feeling that Katniss’s outfit would attract unwanted attention from customers looking to buy their drinks. It’d be easier if she just changed (though James would miss the wanton exposure her barmaid outfit gave her) and they were alone. “Madame won’t mind, will she?”
remind me to never write a post at 2:30 in the morning again
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 12, 2011 13:10:03 GMT -5
Katniss was a person that was sure of a lot of things, she was confident in her mind and because of that she knew that she had to be right most, if not all of the time. It wasn’t even her being cocky, it was just Katniss being logical and unafraid to see passed the non-pertinent details to see something more. It was this one thing that seem to dictate her life because she couldn’t stop being logical for one moment, she just had to analyze everything like it was a disease. It was a disease that she enabled more than she should as it got her to thinking and therefore ignoring everything else that was out there – good or bad. Katniss had known James for seven years, and not once did she ask him why he was still here in front of her the way he was. It seemed like any other thing in the world but now it just wasn’t. It changed the rules of the game.
Once, she thought that James reminded her of Peter, but she soon realized that was Tristan than anything. By some mistake of her own, she had let people in again and that frightened her more than anything she could ever express in words… but then there was James that was just there, standing in his mess, but still there by someone miracle. She wanted to know why because she couldn’t come up with the answer on her own, or at least an acceptable answer that she was willing to believe. The brunette refused to believe that the boy liked her, because that would have been completely odd, no one liked her (Victoire and Tristan didn’t count in this situation because Katniss never really acknowledged it.). Maybe he stayed because he wanted to figure her out, but that put far too much on his little mind than she was ready to admit. James wasn’t that smart. She was giving him far too much credit where credit wasn’t due; then again he was trying to figure out what her weak spot was, so he couldn’t have been that stupid. It was probably that or the fact that he just assumed. Unless Mister Potter was versed in the art of Legilimens, he was going to have a difficult time with his guessing.
“As a highly functioning sociopath, I would have to disagree with you,” she retorted on the principle that she hadn’t really felt much emotion in the past couple of years that she could actually deem as emotion. “If I did feel something, I doubt that you would be the first one to know.” she replied in a dry tone. “I would share, but that would entail that I tell you my weakness, whatever that may be... and that would ruin the game.” she smirked back though only because it was all in the game. And because of the game she had to make things interesting.
For today, she was going to be compliant, surprisingly compliant when it came to things. She wanted to go and not regret anything or try not to anyway. To Katniss it was rather obvious that they were playing the game for similar base reasons and she didn’t want to get up just yet and leave him to his own devices. She wanted to know if he would figure it out. “Well, the bed would be an obvious choice and a given,” Katniss said, rather unimpressed with his attitude but she didn’t cringe at the fact that he had called her Nissy, yet again. She loathed that name more than anything in the world and only a few people called her that. She felt so uncomfortable when people called her Nissy; it wasn’t like it was a weakness; she just disliked it more than words could say. Maybe she was just getting used to James calling her Nissy, or most so the knowledge that he was never going to stop calling her Nissy.
Upon his agreement to her generous offer, she nodded, “I’ll go get changed then, much to your dismay.” she muttered the last part as she slide out of her chair. “I don’t think that she’ll mind all that much after the events that transpired today.” she glanced back at the Madame still giving the man a tongue lashing. “I doubt she’ll even notice.” she said before walking away to get changed in the back.
Within five minutes she had made her way back to James with a new set of clothing on, she couldn’t help but go back to her previous thinking. Slipping behind him, she leaned down, placing her hands on his shoulders. Leaning down, coming rather close to him, she took a breath in, “James,” she purred his name, partly on accident and partly on purpose, in his ear, “why are you still here, playing games with me?” she let the impersonal question slip from her tongue so that only he could hear. She wanted to know the answer, almost more than she wanted to breathe at this point, if there was an answer to give, for one but she didn’t hold out for it. She wasn’t even sure if her message got across, things like this were so fickle.
words; cbb, tags; dana & kiddie pool, notes; i will remind you of this. outfit; white teeshirt, dark wash jeans, black leather jacket, ravenclaw scarf and boots.
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Post by dana1 on Nov 17, 2011 21:36:46 GMT -5
James had always been emotional, sometimes overly so. He was always the first to charge into things without thinking, almost brazenly, as if his senses had all but left him entirely. He wasn't a person controlled by thoughts or logic; when James had entered Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat had dismissed Ravenclaw almost immediately. And for good reason, James always thought; Ravenclaws were stuffy, uptight, and eccentric - all of those, he was not. The few exceptions were in his family, though even they were sometimes victim to the stereotypes of their house. The Sorting Hat had been right to put him in Gryffindor, where the brave made their home (though, he had to admit, there was often more brawn than brain in his house; James's ego prevented him from feeling the same for himself).
James was, admittedly, a man of simple thoughts. Only five were important enough to waste time thinking about: family, friends, food, quidditch, and sex. (Not necessarily in that order; it depended on the day.) The rest of the empty space between his ears was put to use in thinking of ways to obtain his basic needs. He'd never had a reason to worry about anything else. He was Harry Potter's firstborn - literally, the fruit of his loins - and although his parents had fought to instill a sense of humility and humbleness in James, the seventh year never saw a problem in turning that sense on and off according to his fickle moods.
Now, however, it seemed that James would have to walk in the shoes of another house, to adopt a different style of thinking. How else would he find the way to explain his unique fascination with Katniss Williams? It was almost poetic; he’d have to think like a Ravenclaw to beat one at a game of their own creation, though James had never really fully understood the prize. Other than satisfaction at defeating yet another challenger, climbing another mountain and making it out alive (exaggerated, perhaps, but James never settled for anything less), there was no personal gain for the seventh year Gryffindor, and as he tsked at her mock-admonishingly and watched her walk away, he had to wonder: what was he doing?
Several reasons came to mind. First and foremost was the idea that he only wanted to win. This was, after all, a competition, and James loved competitions. The boy was always eager to test his skills against worthy (in James’s opinion) opponents, and if he was honest with himself, Katniss presented a rather formidable mountain that he wanted to conquer. She was interesting, in a way that James couldn’t describe to anyway; he just felt it. Much like a child who stumbled across a previously-undiscovered toy, James was fascinated. Perhaps when (when, not if) he discovered her weakness, the thrill would wear off, and she would become just another pretty face at Hogwarts.
James liked the sound of that reason, and so, discarded the others before he’d even had the chance to shuffle through his thoughts.
To his satisfaction, she turned and left, making good on her offer to leave with him. James didn’t particularly know why Katniss was being so generous in aiding him in discovering her weakness, but when given such an opportunity, James knew better than to ask why it had come. His gaze lingered on her retreating back – she was right, he was fairly disappointed when he realized he would no longer see the form-fitting uniform of the Three Broomsticks – before he glanced down at his half-full firewhisky glass and amused himself by making finger prints in the condensation. It was an old habit he’d picked up from no one in particular; one day, in the summer of first year, he’d discovered how many intricate shapes he could make, how many things he could draw in the fogged curve of a glass. Since then, whenever confronted with boring dinners with his father’s co-workers or admirers or cornered into an uneventful day with a dull girl, James would print crude sketches onto the surface of the glass.
He didn’t see her slip behind him, and the firewhisky nearly toppled over onto his lap when James felt her hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t used to being caught off-guard, and he fought the urge to glare balefully up at her for nearly ruining his robes (as he always did when Katniss was the perpetrator behind his messes). Instead, the Gryffindor cautiously placed the drink on solid ground and tried to crane his neck to look at her. Her whisper was softer than the dull roar of the crowd at the Three Broomsticks, but every word seemed to slice through the background noise like it was edged in razors.
“I want to win,” he said plainly, moving forward out of her grip and getting to his feet, though he realized that was hardly a reason. It was unusual for him to break from someone’s embrace, particularly if she intrigued him, but James thought he felt a hot flush rising from his neck and he sought to get away from her to hide this particular weakness. “Whatever it takes,” he told her, keeping his eyes on hers, a crooked smirk lifting the right corner of his mouth. “Why are you still playing games with me, Nissy?” he shot back, eyebrow arched. “Am I that attractive?”
lack of text oh jebus
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 19, 2011 18:03:58 GMT -5
If there was a person out there that was more of a Ravenclaw out there, Katniss demanded that they show themselves now, or forever hold their stupid piece of idiocy over their heads for the rest of their lives. It was actually quite amusing to her really, but that was only because she thought that much of herself sometimes – well more like all the time but who’s counting on that anyway? Surely, she wasn’t. There was a reason why Katniss liked to do the things that she did, she liked to run and keep things to herself. It was just how she worked, though she really didn’t know why she wasn’t a Slytherin that would have probably solved more of her problems (some before they even began). Being a Slytherin really seemed like the best escape for things but that wasn’t something that she could easily do anymore. She wasn’t a first year and she didn’t have the means to go back in time to fix that solid mistake that was made when she was put in Ravenclaw. The brunette wasn’t really that stuffy or quite. She was pretty obnoxious sometimes and fairly dangerous. It stood to reason that Katniss wasn’t a person to be trifled with, even as a child.
Katniss thought about everything, she didn’t really like to think that she did but that was just it. She couldn’t help herself most of the time. She couldn’t stop thinking that she was better than people or that there were things that she could explain very easily, though she never wanted to brag. The teen was just placed in something that was greater than herself and she couldn’t help herself sometimes. It was like she was being pulled in thirty different directions but she would just walk straight on by, right in the middle; a twilight until she couldn’t walk anymore. This was the reason that Katniss ran from things, well most things she had to say. She didn’t want to see what was behind her, she didn’t want to turn back – but like Orpheus. The raven was starting to wonder what she was doing and if it was all worth it, but really, it wasn’t. She was just playing the game; everything was in the game and no one could get – not even after death. It wasn’t as if she was fascinated by James, no one was fascinated by James, and she was just interested in the fact that he took an interest in her. He hadn’t left yet, for whatever reason and he was the first person not to be so perturbed when she pushed him away. That had to mean something, no matter how small the idea was. The though started to fester in her head like there was something greater at hand but then she remembered that James was an idiot. She shouldn’t have thought about it the way she did, but it was something that couldn’t really be helped, even now as she stood there with him.
The Raven never thought of herself as a good opponent, or even the best. She just was. There was really nothing to it and that was what she believed. That was all she could think about, especially since she was sure that no one could change her, just like no one could change James if they tried. It was just a fact of life that was not going to be fixed just by wishing about it, or really even doing anything about it. Even with all that Katniss found herself wondering why she even challenged him in the first place. She could hardly stand his presence and this just granted him more time around her, that and she was complying with most of his every whim. She was starting to disgust herself just then as she thought about it all. It was most unsettling for her because she had ever only agreed to a few people in her life and they all seemed to have had to work hard for her respect in the scheme of things, but James… all he had to do was challenge her. It seemed to have sent ripples through the ocean of her mind, destroying the calm that was once there, or the clam in the parts of her mind that she had quickly locked up years before. She was supposed to be emotionless and feeling, after all.
James was ruining this; he was ruining all of it.
Watching him pull away from her, the corners of her lips turned down. She looked at him, watching his push away from her in slow motion, something that she had never really seen from him. It was curious but she didn’t question it for the moment. Slipping her hands into her jacket pockets she put her mask back up, emotion melting away from her face till she was comfortable again. “Whatever it takes,” she repeated his words pulling her eyes away from him to look towards the door. “I play games to pass the time,” she glances back, her voice going flat once again. “Don’t think yourself so important, Potter. You’re repulsive and a whore… I’m surprised you’re even here still playing games. I'm sure your cazzo (italian: dick) has better things to do.” she said, turning her head about again, slowly starting to make her way to the door and out onto the streets of Hogsmeade. Katniss didn't really even want to win at this point because there was nothing to win but the score remained as is: 1 - 0 for Katniss.
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Post by dana1 on Nov 23, 2011 10:51:50 GMT -5
It was hard to tell what had driven James to move from her embrace. James told himself it was to keep himself away from future blackmail – after all, the flush rising on his neck couldn’t be attributed to the heat of the restaurant, since James had followed Katniss out into the chilly Hogsmeade air. If James had been less vain, he might’ve thought to blame it on the scratchy texture of the scarf that he’d wrapped hastily around his neck, but he was James Potter to whom a rash simply never happened. Instead, the seventh year was left to scamper after Katniss as she forged a way through the Hogsmeade streets, feeling rather bewildered at his instinctive, out of character response to leave her arms.
James couldn’t say that he was pursing Katniss; pursing meant that he was more than just innocently intrigued by her. By saying the word, it would imply that he had more than just a shallow interest for her weakness and her body. Instead of an art dealer looking at the painting, enraptured by the hidden subject, James would be the infatuated suitor after the hand of the person he— Regardless, James would rather be the dealer than infatuated.
There was silence as James lengthened his strides to catch up to her. Her last remark smarted a little, and James held onto it childishly as he shoved his hands into his pockets; did she really think so little of him? As soon as the reproachful question had popped into his head, James discarded it with a firm yes. Katniss had made it obvious on many occasions before, so the question was idiotic to even entertain and hope for the opposite. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, breathing out a puff of warm breath into the cold air. It would be December soon, and James could taste the frost to come in the air. It was an icy feeling that James strangely enjoyed; it was biting but refreshing and clean, unlike the muggy summer air that tasted like sweat and heat and scorched his throat. “But for some reason, it’s yours.”
For a second, James registered what he’d just thoughtlessly said, and then he burst out into laughter. Had he just said what he did? Did he really just pledge not his heart, as some may have assumed had they walked in on his last two statements, but his manhood to Katniss? An image of her with it flashed through his mind, and James dissolved into a fresh burst of laughter. It was not only ridiculous but highly improbable, and he wondered briefly what the firewhisky had done to his sense as he clutched his stomach, gasping for breath.
“S-sorry, Nissy,” he apologized when the initial glee had died down slightly. His voice was raspy and his chest still shook with silent laughter. Chuckles continued to punctuate his words as the image ran through his mind on loop, still as ridiculous as the first time he’d thought of it. “Wh-what I meant to say was that I don’t know why I’m still here, but I am.” His early good humor had returned and he grinned at her, eyes dancing, drunk on his own mistake’s hilarity. “Every part of me, including my cazzo.” His imitation of her accent was terrible, and he acknowledged the fail with another chuckle. James didn’t speak Italian, but he’d been with enough Italian women to know the insult, particularly since they’d flung the word at him as he dressed himself the morning after.
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 23, 2011 12:57:06 GMT -5
She knew he would follow because that was the game and they both played. It wasn’t as if either could drop out now. They were too far in it to see the light at the other end. It was the saddest of truths but it was one to be acknowledged, otherwise things wouldn’t go very well in the long run. It was no matter though; Katniss hardly paid much attention to what was good for her in the long run. She just tried to fact them head on as best she could, not that she was vain or anything it was just that it was best. Not confronting things was something childish and idiotic, and coming from a runner it seemed almost true. Even so, she wouldn’t readily admit to whatever this was.
It was a truth, generally acknowledged, that Katniss never found herself infatuated with anyone, as most believed that she wasn’t capable of the word. Although they were not wrong it didn’t mean that they were right either, it was strange thing to think of. She was convinced that there was nothing here and she wasn’t going to play the idea that it could possibly be something more. If it was something more, she prayed that it wasn’t the worst situation. She would rather them play each other to death than think of it as something more. She didn’t even have the shallowest of interests in James Potter, it was more the fact that he wouldn’t leave her alone that created this situation and even more so, the fact that she was starting to think it wasn’t all that bad to have him around. He was much like Monet and as annoying as Tristan. They were the ones that stuck around and she supposed that it was enough to feel that he was at least a little. She almost wanted to know more about the Potter boy from this, which was more than she could say about other people.
Shifting a glance back to him, she sighed. She knew she was right about most things and it was something that she took the smallest bit of pride in. Even as the cold winter air started to nip at her cheeks, she knew. Holding back a laugh, she stared at him, trying to compose herself. Katniss knew that he obviously didn’t mean what he had just said and it was something ridiculous anyway. “You’re also an idiot.” she confirmed her own thought between his inappropriate thought laughs. Sure, it was the least bit funny but she wasn’t about to humour him again. She had been compliant enough for the moment and she was there to dent his ego, not feed it. “… a complete and utter idiot.” she nodded, watching him carefully as he reeled back from his outburst, turning into internal laughs. Well, that was something she could deal with instead of his annoying little braying sounds from his obvious slip.
Biting at her lower lip, she glared at him; the annoyance of the name was starting to creep back to her though she knew there was nothing that she could possibly do about the situation now. “No need.” she said licking her lips, “… I figured as much. Pledging your dick to a person isn’t exactly a decision made with a sound mind.” Katniss shook her head, permitting a small chuckle from her lips before she looked back up at him a little bit curious. “Well… I can see that but, what are you going to do about that?” she said gesturing around, “If you’re going to keep up with the game you’re going to find somewhere quiet so that others don’t see your clear failure.” the seventeen year old nodded, holding back a small laugh. It was at that instance that she figured that she had James all to herself, and as unsettling as that feeling was to her, she didn’t hate it.
Placing her hands back in her pockets, she graced him with a brief smile as she slide closer to his side. “Lead the way.”
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Post by dana1 on Nov 24, 2011 20:23:21 GMT -5
James heard the sigh in his laughs, and he heard her words, but the acknowledgement of his idiocy somehow only fueled his good humor. This was how it should be, he thought contentedly as he strode beside her; the easy atmosphere around them with her insults and his remarks was preferable to the awkward, tense silence that James had brought upon himself in the bar. Now, he still didn’t quite know what had come over him, but with the bitterness of the winter air, he was willing to shove those messy thoughts and feelings into the corners of his mind to await a time when he was ready to sift through them (see: never).
He caught the last bit of her glare and grinned cheekily at her. The nickname – which he had coined through a rather long-winded but entertaining conversation via owl – always seemed to get under her skin, and James relished in the change in her normally blank expression, even if it was annoyance directed at him. “Normally, that’s all I really pledge though. Aren’t you lucky?” he teased lightly, grinning as he watched her tongue trace her lips from the corner of his eye. It was an innocuous act, probably just an instinct to the cold air; James did it himself just a moment later, though his was only partially due to the winter air. However, it was a movement that had directed his eyes to her lips, and being the person he was, James let his eyes linger there, his mind’s eye conjuring up memories and fantasies (he sometimes considered their escapade in the library a mixture of both). His eyes stayed there for a moment more until they flicked back up to her gaze and held it, his eyes widening a fraction as he heard the chuckle slip through her lips.
“I’m keeping you on your toes,” he jibed, emboldened by her laughter. “You’ll never know what I’m planning.” Truth was, James hardly even knew himself. He wasn’t a man of calculation or thought; he charged into things without first thinking them through, and the challenge had been one of them. Of course, James hadn’t bargained that she wouldn’t have been able to find his weakness so quickly, but he spared only moments wallowing in that gripe before moving onto the more pressing issue: her weakness.
Even though James had known her for seven years, he’d never really bothered to really get to know her. He knew her as Katniss Williams, the sociopath he liked to prod to receive a response, the girl he never seemed to make an impression on (something that James was still looking to change), the girl he’d kissed in the library… But what did he really know about her other than what she did at Hogwarts. There were three whole months (plus some breaks, when James returned to the Potter household) that he was without her and vice versa (though James wryly admitted to himself those were probably the three best months of the year for her). What did she do? Who did she go home to?
She probably didn’t have to ask him; after all, he was James Potter; his life had practically been documented since the day of he was born. His scraped knee in second year, the cigarette bust in fifth – he was sure if he did some digging, he probably could’ve come up with at least something. In that, Katniss had the advantage in their little game; she knew her opponent, but James had little knowledge of who she was. In order to find her weakness, James realized a split second later, he’d have to understand her, at least to a level where he could manipulate that knowledge.
“We wouldn’t want witnesses to that, now would we?” he said, beaming as the revelation dawned on him. The puzzle pieces had fallen into place, and now all he had to do was connect them. He was confident that he’d cleared the worst of the obstacles ahead, and now, his stride had changed just slightly to an arrogant saunter as she smiled at him (a chuckle and smile, lucky day!) and slid closer to him. He had a place in mind; he’d found it when he was exploring the town as a third year: a cave on a hill just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, surrounded by scraggly rocks. It was a difficult journey, but James had heard stories of his namesake living there, and if Sirius could do it, then James sure as hell could as well. It was definitely remote enough for no wandering eyes. “It’s not that far.” Now that he walked with a purpose, James felt more powerful, which perhaps made him more foolish.
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Post by lookjedi on Nov 24, 2011 22:08:55 GMT -5
The Raven never minded silence, it was a think most commonly acknowledged when James Potter shut up for two seconds trying to think of something to say. In those few moments back in the pub, she could really hear herself think. It was something that seemed so uncommon around the Gryffnidor that she had almost forgotten what it was like. It was a sad truth but that was about all she could say about the matter. Even when she could think, she never dared to reach into the corners of her mind to touch the boxes that said ‘open at a later time’.
Potter was a person that she couldn’t stand on occasion, but she had to say that Monet was partly right whens he said that he was starting to grow on her. She had started to take his annoying behaviour instead of kicking him and walking off somewhere to calm herself from the small burst of rage. She did a similar thing to Tristan as well but she never walked away from the curly haired boy. She rather liked Wood a great deal more than James if only because he was harder to shoo away and great deal more persistent and less sexual. Anyway, Katniss hated the name Nissy more than anyone could ever know, it wasn’t a very becoming name and she felt like she was a five-year-old child whenever anyone called her that, James made it no better. “Oh, I get something more?” she said, making a comical ‘o’ face. There was no denying the fact that it was a little bit odd that James could pledge anything to anyone but she didn’t question it for now. She wanted to see how this would play out and if she questioned it, it wouldn’t be a surprise… not that she was ever surprised, least of all by him.
Katniss was just one of those people that didn’t like to talk about anything. She was just one of those people that liked to hear about other people, observe that way they act and talk and interact with each other. There was nothing that really got passed her, especially since she liked to watch everyone all the time. She knew everything that was going on at the school even though she hardly ever spoke to anyone. It was an art to understand people by their sudden movements and how they carried themselves – their actions spoke more than their words ever could. There was something she had always figured since the eyes could always mislead and the smiles could lie but nervous habits told the whole truth and nothing but. She never liked to talk about her home life with people, not even to the people that were closest to her. It was a strange thing really but she didn’t have much of a home life to talk about. Katniss Williams had practically estranged herself from her parents and went home to an empty flat in London for her summers if she wasn’t gone travelling somewhere. She despised going back to her flat most of the time, there were terrible memories there and she only stayed because she liked familiarity. During the Winter Breaks she stayed at the school and was determined to set fire to at least one part of the school or another over her years, all but fourth year being successful to a point. Everything else, well it wasn’t important. She left things to the bare details because she didn’t like everyone knowing ever intimate detail – she kept her private life private.
“Witness? Oh bother.” she muttered quietly, trying to act all upset with him as he beamed. James an arrogant child, nothing more, and the raven had started to wonder why she even put up the boy, especially since she hated children. There was probably only a few exceptions to the rule but that was it. She hated children on principle because they were whiny and full of themselves and always running amuck. “Oh, is that all? Not very far?” she hummed out the words looking around trying to avoid eye contact after her slip ups. She couldn’t contain herself around him some of the time. She was starting to treat him like he was close… or something but quickly corrected it shifting a little bit away looking around. But after a few minutes she stopped and just stared at him, curious to know what his thoughts were. “… are we there yet?” she whined slightly, using the words that she would have probably reprimanded someone else for saying. Katniss permitted herself to act like a child for just a moment before yawning it away… in a harmless cute kitten-like manner.
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