third year - hufflepuff
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allen w. rhoddes
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muggle born - wizard raised
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“To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.”
– Leonard Bernstein
“Now, somehow, in some new way, the sky seemed almost alien.”
– Lyndon B. Johnson
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¦¦
A smile climbed onto his face and he nodded his head mindlessly, showing his understanding and observation that she was not particular in speaking about whatever events she had been part of a few minutes prior to sitting with him.
That warm comfort of combined pleasure of her company, the anxiety of oncoming food, and the light chatter and interaction present around them of friends and housemates died so instantly it could not be even spared the moment to wither when her final question ran in his ears. The freezing, blood-stopping chill gripped the base of his spine as he looked at her with horror at her inquiry; too terrified to even think about revealing the secrets hidden under his gloves, spread over his palms like bloody sin that he could not even place his mask over his face and eyes. Hiding the raw fear her words had created in him.
Words of defiance not even capable of being formed or coherent enough to rip from his throat and land on the air between them - instead his hands rushed under the table, out of sight. The force and desperation of his movement knocking his goblet, spilling what was left of its contents, and hitting some food. ¦¦
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allen w. rhoddes
▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬
muggle born - wizard raised
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.”
– Leonard Bernstein
“Now, somehow, in some new way, the sky seemed almost alien.”
– Lyndon B. Johnson
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
¦¦
A smile climbed onto his face and he nodded his head mindlessly, showing his understanding and observation that she was not particular in speaking about whatever events she had been part of a few minutes prior to sitting with him.
That warm comfort of combined pleasure of her company, the anxiety of oncoming food, and the light chatter and interaction present around them of friends and housemates died so instantly it could not be even spared the moment to wither when her final question ran in his ears. The freezing, blood-stopping chill gripped the base of his spine as he looked at her with horror at her inquiry; too terrified to even think about revealing the secrets hidden under his gloves, spread over his palms like bloody sin that he could not even place his mask over his face and eyes. Hiding the raw fear her words had created in him.
Words of defiance not even capable of being formed or coherent enough to rip from his throat and land on the air between them - instead his hands rushed under the table, out of sight. The force and desperation of his movement knocking his goblet, spilling what was left of its contents, and hitting some food. ¦¦