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It's summertime in Scotland; the weather has begun to clear, and the flowers are in full bloom! Now is a time for bonfires, stargazing and long nights spent with friends and family! Welcome to Wizarding Realm- an AU Harry Potter role play set in current day hogwarts!
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 The Morning Meal Coalition, Ro // Sunny, Cam // Ben, & Rory // Storm
Ani · 13 · 3rd · · Halfblood · 5'1"
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May 30 2018, 02:56 AM   Link Quote
When it came to mealtime at Hogwarts, there was one of two ways it could go.

The first, and Laoise’s preference, was a good thirty minutes to an hour before the rush, maybe even longer. Plotting to arrive earlier than the rush meant that the scene was essentially a graveyard: Only a few brace souls sat eating. Especially during breakfast, very few people decided to show their face before the patootie crack of dawn. It was understandable. Well, not to Laoise. It was reasonable, but not understandable, because there were many things she dreaded, but few ranked higher than the Great Hall during prime time.

Which was the second atmosphere mealtime could assume. It was horrible. Crammed, loud, and difficult to find seating, rush hour meant that there was classes to be had soon, and so students and faculty alike were desperately trying to shove food into their mouths to get some energy to make it through the day. To make matters worse, conversation occurred among all parties, and so there was a rather loud roar of the crowd.

Needless to say, Laoise had made the mistake of ending up at the Great Hall’s doors during rush hour, refusing to eat because of it, and then promptly falling asleep during her second class because she ran out of energy. And before she had fallen asleep, it had been difficult to pay attention because all she could think about was how much she missed not having her beans on toast.

Determined to ensure it would never happen again, Laoise set many the alarms to get her up and out of bed before six in the morning. She’d be up, dressed, and out the door fifteen minutes later, ready to eat breakfast. Was it a little unreasonable to do so? Sure. But there was one person she knew understood: Ronan Ivers. He, too, was no fan of loud noises or people who talked with their mouths full. He wasn’t a fan of a lot, but he seemed to enjoy not sitting alone in the mornings. Laoise did too.

This morning was like any other morning. She got up and made her bed, tucking the honey-colored sheets and comforter as neatly as possible without disturbing her snoozing cat Marcy. Quietly, she changed from warm pajamas to layers of gray, white, and yellow: Her uniform. Topping it all off with the required black robes, she combed her fingers through her hair so as not to disturb the curl but to at least make it look a little managed before climbing out the door.

Luckily for Laoise, the Great Hall wasn’t far of a walk. Being sorted into Hufflepuff had many perks, most of which were food associated (close proximity to the Kitchens and the Hall). Although her strides were more like trudges, and although her face did not show it, Laoise was eager to be awake and meet up with her friend in the Great Hall. Even though he was a little strange, he seemed to be one of the only ones who had similar preferences for the quiet and calm.

Pushing through the doors, Laoise found herself in perfect timing. Rush hour was a good amount of time away, allowing her to not only enjoy her breakfast, but wake up a little and have some conversation. It wasn’t her strongest suit, but it wasn’t Ronan’s either, so at least he didn’t seem to judge her as much as some people.

The dyed blond wasn’t difficult to spot, even if surrounded in a sea of yellow. The eagle swapped tables every morning to sit with Laoise, and she was thankful for it. Despite finding conversation and noisiness anxiety-provoking, she quite enjoyed their conversations over the morning meal.

“Good morning, Ronan,” she greeted, wrangling up the best smile she could. It wasn’t much, seeing as she could barely keep her eyes open, but her heart was in it. “Tell me, what did you dream about last night?” The boy had some wild dreams. Their conversations almost always started with him talking about a dream he had, and they’d spend a good chunk of breakfast attempting to figure out what it could mean.

It was an odd system, but it was their system, and Laoise loved little more than following a safe schedule.

~~~~~

@Ronan Ivers
Sunny · 17 · 6th · n/a · Pureblood · 5'6"
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May 30 2018, 11:12 AM   Link Quote
Ronan wasn’t a morning person. Ronan wasn’t a people person, either, but of the two offending parties, people were miles worse.

Just the thought of sitting in the Great Hall during its peak hours, surrounded by mobs of his peers all jostling and chewing and blah-blah-blahing; their lips smacking, cutlery screeching against plates, the sound of a goblet knocked from the table and sent clattering across the stone floor, was enough to set his teeth on edge. It put a knot in his belly that he would carry all day long, squirming from one class to the next as he wallowed in his own discomfort. If avoiding all that meant dragging himself from the warmth of his bed an hour before the rest of the castle began to stir, well, then that was just what Ronan was willing to do.

And it was what he did, on this morning and all the rest, reliably, each and every day for all the years that he had called the castle home.

Routine. Some days it was the only thing keeping him sane. There was comfort in the familiarity of his habits, a sense of control that he could cling to as the days slipped by like water through his fingers. When nothing else about the world and its people made sense, at least he could rely on the steady ticking of the watch around his wrist to tell him where he was meant to be.

For example, at the moment the watch read 5:35, and at 5:35 in the morning, Ronan expected to find himself seated at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall with two slices of toast on his plate (butter and jam), two lumps of sugar in his tea (with cream), two apples set side by side (but not touching) to the right of his fork, a book under his nose, and his friend occupying the seat immediately across the table from him. As it were, that was precisely the scene before him today.

“Good morning, Laoise,” he echoed back as his friend took her place in front of him. Ronan didn’t lift his eyes from the pages of his book when she sat, but he did take one of the apples from his side of the table to place in front of her. It was only when she prompted him to tell her about his dream that he let the book fall closed.

“Dream?” he stalled, lining the edge of his book with the edge of the table. “It was the same one I’ve told you about before: with the trees and my sisters. The one where they all disappear.”

He had described the dream several times before. It always started the same: all five of his sisters playing with him between the trees on the estate. They were playing a game, but he didn’t understand the rules. Again and again he would ask the girls to explain, but all they did was laugh and run away. When he chased them, they ran faster, weaving between the branches with an easy grace that he couldn’t match. His own feet would tangle in the undergrowth. He would stumble, fall behind, and lose sight of them. They would run on, leaving him fumbling in the dirt, the echoes of their laughter fading into the stagnant afternoon. And then he would be alone in the silence under the trees, and he would never see anyone again.

A shiver ran down his spine as he watched it play out again in his mind’s eye. “It’s the second time this week. I dunno what it means. D’you think it’s an omen? D’you think it means something bad’s about to happen?”

For the first time since Laoise entered the Hall, Ronan lifted his gaze to look at her. His eyes skimmed her expression before falling back down to his plate. He shrugged, picked up a slice of his toast, and nibbled at the corner.

"I reckon it don't mean anything at all."

@Laoise Murdoch
Ben! · 16 · 5th · · · 5"11
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Jun 3 2018, 03:16 PM   Link Quote
Cameron was a creature of unusual habits, and anyone who knew him- or rather, knew of him, could confirm this. Most teenagers sapped up every extra second of sleep that they could: lying sprawled in their beds, chests softly rising and falling, a sea of slumbering beasts. Cameron, however, was made of a different kind. Where the rest of his dorm laid amidst their thick honey and black blankets, he begrudginly rose from the warmth and quickly drew on warm woolen socks, boots, and one of his thick sweaters. Even in June, the morning was cool in Scotland, with mist clinging to it's hillocks and shyly hiding from the sun. He felt an itch in his bones as he thought about it, the kind that only came every now and then, the one that he so desperately chased. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder as he tip-toed from the dorm room and out of the Hufflepuff basement.

There were perks to the placement of his house. It was a moment away from the Great Hall (for quick escapes) and seconds away from the entrace and exit to the castle, (also for quick escapes.) This was no inbetween. He slunk quickly and quietly across the main hall, passing the marble staircase and sliding his way between the doors before anyone noticed. This morning, the sun was peeking over the mountains opposite the lake by the time he made it there. By the time he was ready to leave, it was beginning to wane fully into the sky, bestowing a golden light onto the lawns that hinted to the heat of day. He walked up the slopes, hands fidgeting with the leather strap of his bag as his stomach growled hollowly; complaining, no doubt, that he usually forgot to feed himself.

He dimly reminded himself to try and actually eat this morning rather than getting too caught up in listening to conversation between Ronan and Laoise. It had been an odd arrangement, to begin with. He had simply shown up around the time they had: all three of them had their reasons for not partaking in the normal breakfast time. He suspected their reasons were all very similar, but had yet to confirm any suspicions that arose. Instead, he just existed easily in a space that didn't demand anything of him, which was nice in and of itself.

When he reached the hall, he slunk through the door quietly enough that it would be forgiven if they didn't notice him at all. But these two, like himself, were hyper-vigilant when it came to others around them, and therefore it wouldn't be surprising if they did. The smell of grass, dew, the lake, it all wafted off of him as he took his usual seat next to Laoise, silent and poised. Per usual, he placed his bag next to him and scanned the table for something to eat. Somewhere in his mind, he told himself to try something new to appease his mother whom wasn't here. So instead, he grabbed his usual: toast, an egg, and sausage. "Hello," He greeted, a little too late. He had caught the tail-end of their conversation, but didn't want to intrude on it. He simply stared at his plate and began to cut what was there into neat, bite-sized pieces. "... How are you... this morning?" He asked, delicately. It wasn't very often that he talked during breakfast, but he was trying to get better, and lately had at least been asking how the two of them were.

These two, he had noticed, liked things in routine. So, if he was going to do something different, it had to be repeatable. He felt his cheeks burn a little, an uncomfortable prickle in his spine. He ignored them, and shyly looked up from his plate at the two surrounding him for an answer.


@Ronan Ivers @Laoise Murdoch

--------------------
I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see,
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
🌙🌙🌙
Storm · 14 · 4th · · Halfblood · 4'11"
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Jun 10 2018, 06:09 PM   Link Quote
Some people were nothing short of miserable and terrible beings in the morning, something Rory had learned upon coming to Hogwarts and being exposed to life outside the sanctuary. In truth he had left home before, and even spent a few nights away from everything that was familiar but Hogwarts had been his first extended experience with living with people that were not on the same sleep schedule as himself. It had been an adjustment for the rowdy lion, in time he would come to love these hours of alone time though. It would be hours later before the corridors would be filled with students -and professors- shuffling around in zombie mode, sometimes the zombie even talked but it was never anything intelligent in his experience. The little lion was not like other students though, instead the Gaelic boy did as he had always done and crawled out of bed before the sun had even broke the horizon. It was quiet in the mornings -usually- with most of the idiots still being off in dreamland and it suited Rory just fine, he didn’t want to listen to them and their petty problems. Who had time for that when there were ponies in the barn that were much better company than half his dorm mates?

It was easy enough to play along and do the polite thing… but the little lion was fueled entirely by his own selfish reasons for remaining quiet in the mornings to avoid rousing the others. He didn’t like sharing, never had and it was something that he liked to blame on his siblings for always touching his things… but honestly Rory was just as much at fault when it came to borrowing things that did not belong to him. In the end of it all, when all the water had been boiled off all that was left over was the fourth years lack of willingness to share his peaceful mornings with others. It was time meant to be spent with the ponies and little critters that called the barn home, and it was during those sacred hours that he was able to prepare himself to deal with dumbasses and spending too much time inside. In some ways it reminded him of the home he missed, but it was different in more ways than similar. There was no good-for-nothing-but-protecting-the-hens rooster to get his blood boiling first thing in the morning, and it was a bit of a let down really. Rory and the resident rooster had a bit of a love hate relationship, the rooster loved to attack him and Rory enjoyed making idle threats about stew but in the end they needed each other more than he was willing to admit. Happy hens were healthy hens and an aggressive rooster had no qualms about attacking any would be predator that so much as looked at his hens. Not to mention the complete lack of dragons was a huge disappointment.

Sunlight stretched across the corridors in long rectangles, framed in stone they allowed a glimpse of the outside world. Stones walls served as a constant reminder that they were all confined during the school day -mostly- and often left Rory feeling like a caged animal left to pace a hole through the floor. Not that he was particularly well known for following the rules and showing up to class on time on a regular basis, it was the thought that counted though right? Isn’t that what adults liked to say all the time? It was easy enough to think about how he was suppose to go to class or do his homework, and just as easy to shrug it off and find something worth his time.

Like food!

Food was glorious! Especially when growing big and strong was high on the to-do list, and well Rory Storm had no plans to stay small and puny.... Even if it meant he had to sometimes eat his vegetables. It was almost time for first breakfast, which was a very important, if not the most important meal of the day. It was time to go fuel the beast, sitting through boring classes with an empty stomach just was not doable for him. “Spike,” he quietly chirped as a finger nudged at the sleepy little hedgehog, “it’s time for yummy food, wake up sleepyhead.” It was food time and food time waited for no one, not even sleepy hedgehogs. Gently the tiny pin-cushion of a rodent was plucked from her cozy sleeping spot -which was honestly just an oversized cargo pocket with a Spike sized fleece tucked in the bottom- and cradled within both hands as the rowdy lion picked up the pace. Picked up the pace as in running the rest of the way to the Great Hall, the smells of breakfast drifting down the corridors to taunt him.

It was quiet and nearly deserted in the Great Hall… at least it was until Rory burst in running, nearly sliding past the entrance as he drifted in, still cradling Spike in his hands and hugging her close to his chest. This was an everyday occurrence and really Spike was on board with Operation Chow Time just as much as her rowdy boy was. Spike was the best sidekick anyone could have ever dreamed of, they ate together, played together, broke the rules together and even served detention together. It was a match made in heaven by Nana Storm and Nana Storm always knew best, even if Rory himself didn’t always think so. Come on Nana, vegetables have no place in cookies! Seriously, the nerve. Once actually inside and near food the duo finally slowed their roll to a more appropriate speed walk. Progress not perfection. Distracted by all the delicious food and smells Rory nearly strolled right past his friend, his eyes never leaving the food until they snapped up to see a familiar face.

Momentarily caught off guard the little lion took a step back, a smile spreading across his face and reaching to touch blue eyes. “L-dog!” it was a customary Rory greeting complete with no volume control, heads turning to look their way as the rowdy boy could not be bothered with acknowledging the other two. They didn’t matter to him, so he really didn’t care what they had to say. “We are starving, what are you having?” on the topic of food his gaze dropped first to her plate and then to the food between them. One hand remained with Spike as the other moved to brush the last remaining bits of hay from his messy hair, he wasn’t all that concerned about where it went either. Never mind the dirt stuck under his fingernails or the grass stained scrape on his elbow, as long as his hair looked good and wasn't full of hay.

An invitation wasn’t necessary as the Gaelic boy invited himself to join them, dropping into the seat beside Cameron without so much as looking at the Hufflepuff. You could say his manners and social skills were lacking in some areas, he preferred animals to people anyway. Even without the hay stuck in his hair the fourth year looked disheveled, there was dirt still stuck under his fingernails and any dirt that hadn’t been wiped off on his shorts was still stuck to his fingers. It wasn’t something he ever really thought about, or was concerned about when others mentioned it. It was just a little dirt, no one died from a little dirt in their diet. It was almost like eating vegetables, those came from the dirt. Plopping Spike down beside his plate Rory quickly collected a little saucer and splashed a little bit of water in it from the pitcher for her, the tiny hedgehog seemed pretty unimpressed with the water and instead sniffed around until presented with a spoonful of scrambled eggs. With his trusty sidekick content with her first breakfast, Rory was finally able to get food for himself. “So how have y- oh! Waffles!” his gaze had wandered away and found the delightfully delicious things, a dirty hand reached across the table to grab one, there was no time for plates and forks or even syrup, nope it went straight into his mouth and remained clutched in his fingers as he chewed. “I love waffles.” he apologized, kind of, and then continued on, “how have you been?” Rory was quite content to sit and eat his waffle with Laoise and Spike, and well to ignore the existence of Ronon and Cameron.


Ani · 13 · 3rd · · Halfblood · 5'1"
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Jun 13 2018, 11:23 AM   Link Quote
The customary apple was passed over the table to her. Smiling politely, Laoise reached out and took it from the spot he set it in so carefully. Ronan was particular about the way things were, whether it be food placement or scheduling, school supplies at the library or clothing. He liked things a certain way, and stuck to a strict pattern of events. Laoise didn’t mind following along. If anything, she was honored to be a part of it. It was kind of him to give her an apple every morning, even if she didn’t care for apples all that much. Well, at least she’d get in a serving of fruit.

Another thing was rather systematic about Ronan: What he dreamed about. The boy had a lot of reoccurring dreams, especially in comparison to the brunette who could barely remember what she dreamt up between bed and the Great Hall. Seeing the same dream once or a million times never changed her inability to conjure them up again at the table. But that was okay. Ronan seemed to like her picking apart his dreams to try and find some meaning.

“Hmm . . . Twice this week?” she repeated, gaze dropping to focus on the wood in front of her. “I’m uncertain if it necessarily means something bad is about to happen, but it certainly could mean something is going to happen.” When it came to dream analysis, or anything related to Divination, it seemed that words like could and might were often used as a barrier from being wrong. Nothing was certain, after all.

“Are you missing home more than usual? Or perhaps feeling anxious about the summer that’s coming up? You’ve mentioned not always enjoying summers with your sisters. Maybe you’re nervous about how this one will go?” Laoise offered up the few ideas her sleepy mind could think up just as their other mealtime companion arrived.

Cameron wasn’t always certain to appear. He was a wanderer, a quiet soul who liked to take things in. A boy of few words, he didn’t ever say much. So, when he asked how they were doing, Laoise found a smile breaking her lips. It was different, sure, but he was opening up more to them. It made her happy to think about.

“Good morning, Cameron,” she said back, politely making eye contact with the boy for a few moments before turning back to her own plate to begin loading up. “I’m doing rather well. Still a bit tired, though. Stayed up late doing homework.” She took a bit of toast and some porridge, then began eating her apple. “How’re you doing today, Cam-“

The words stopped falling out of her mouth as her eyes landed on a figure clad in blue and gray, despite being a lion, making his way through the Great Hall. Her heart left the cavity in her chest to instead take up camp at the bottom of her throat, closing off any air to produce sounds that fell into words.

It was him.

Rory Storm had been in her life since the near beginning. Their parents worked together- Or had until her father’s passing. They had gone to the same daycare and trekked across the preserve under adult supervision. They spent summers together, and just recently, Laoise had started looking at him differently. With rose colored glasses, the girl had developed a bit of a crush on the boy, who was walking down the aisle with tables on either end.

Wait . . . Was he headed this way? As in, towards her?! Her mind went into panic mode. Not even bothering to finish her sentence anymore, she just stared, dumbfounded. Every step he took brought them closer, and closer, and closer until he was at most five feet away.

He called out to her, and little patches of bright red broke out across her cheeks. Shy, she looked down in her lap. Then he sat, at the same table she was sat at. Her heart raced in her chest, flooding her sense of hearing and rendering her ears useless. It was stupid to feel this way . . . Right? She glanced over at him and spotted his lips moving. Crap, crap, crap! He was talking!

Laoise let out a nervous laugh, reaching up to fix the hair she hadn’t bothered to brush before coming upstairs to breakfast from the Hufflepuff basement common room. “Morning!” she said in a tone that wasn’t at all her own, still laughing a bit nervously. All of his questions went unanswered as she slipped into a shy loop of laughter until she forced herself to stop and she looked down at her plate.

‘Idiot,’ she thought to herself. 'You’re making a huge fool of yourself.'

~~~~~
@Ronan Ivers
@Cameron Blackwood
@Rory Storm
Sunny · 17 · 6th · n/a · Pureblood · 5'6"
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Jun 14 2018, 03:07 PM   Link Quote
Sticky sweet jam filled his mouth as he chewed and listened, the twitch of a frown pulling at the corner of his lip at the way Laoise phrased her prediction.

“Well, of course something’s going to happen. Things are always happening. But that doesn’t mean the dream’s got anything to do with it,” said Ronan. He took another bite of his toast and observed the hall to his right. A small ensemble of the castle’s other inhabitants sat scattered about the room, most with bed-tangled hair and heavy eyes drooping over their bowls of porridge. One had fallen asleep on top of her essay. Wet ink smudged her cheek, and the smallest dribble of drool rolled down her chin and gathered in a pool where it stained her parchment.

Beauty sleep indeed.

Wrinkling his nose, Ronan blinked his attention back to his plate while Laoise asked him about home. He shrugged off the questions, occupying himself instead with the way he returned the nibbled slice of toast to his plate, aligning it so that it sat flush with the second slice without touching it.

What did it matter, how he felt about going home for the summer? The summer holiday was still weeks away. He had exams to study for and essays to prepare. He had a cousin with all her end-of-term-parties to avoid. There were classes to attend and crowds to dodge and books to finish before they were due back at the library. Most importantly, he had his breakfast to arrange on this plate. Merlin knew what catastrophe the day would bring if he couldn’t get his toast aligned just right. Besides, how he felt about going home didn’t mean anything in the end. He would have to go, even if the thought of it dug a pit in his stomach.

Ronan pressed his lips together in a hard line. His eyes focused down on his plate with the intensity of a surgeon practicing his craft. He didn’t notice Cameron enter the hall, nor did he notice when the boy took up his place beside Laoise on the opposite side of the table. Always, the Hufflepuff had a habit of appearing so suddenly and silently that Ronan couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t been there the whole time. It was only when he spoke, voice so soft the vast hall nearly swallowed it, that Ronan glanced up at him.

There was something about the boy that left Ronan with a vague feeling of unease. Cameron sat with hunched shoulders, his head bent forward, expression folded in a polite-enough mask of neutrality. Although he never had been much good at reading people, Ronan suspected that beneath the hollow cheeks and keen eyes, the boy was a fortress. He was as inscrutable as he was invisible, holding himself in such a way that suggested he’d rather not be noticed, as if he felt self-conscious for all the space his body occupied.

At least he didn’t talk much, and when he chewed it was like eating was a secret he had to keep from the world. That was fine by Ronan, who never did have much tolerance for people who chewed too loud or talked to much. Even if he couldn’t crack a guess at what might be going through the quiet boy’s mind, Cameron posed no imposition on Ronan’s daily rituals. So long as he didn’t tread all over the sanctity of the morning routine, Ronan would allow his presence at the table.

“Morning,” he answered back, his attention drifting from the boy to Laoise as she spoke. But his attention didn’t linger long on her, as someone threw open the doors to the Great Hall and burst in with all the reckless speed of a rogue bludger.

Oh, bleedin’ hell, Ronan thought to himself, craning his neck to watch the small boy skid into the room. “I swear, if someone’s let another troll in, I’ll--”

But the world would never have the privilege of knowing exactly what Ronan would do if someone had, indeed, let another troll in, because at that moment the boy’s eyes locked on the trio and his face split into a grin as he strolled over to plop himself down in the vacant space beside Cameron. As he sat, he brushed hay from his hair which fell all over the table. The unmistakable smell of barn muck radiated off of him, and dirt blackened the tips of his fingernails. He shouted when he spoke, half-leaning across Cameron as he talked to Laoise while his dirty, greedy little fingers helped themselves to the stack of waffles.

And then he dropped the rodent on the table.

The Ravenclaw exploded. Jumping to his feet, his eyes narrowed to a hard glare fixed onto the Gryffindor boy. “You can’t sit there! No one said you could sit there! That’s not your seat.” A tight pressure pulled at his chest. A vein twitched at his temple. “No one’s supposed to sit there!” Ronan gestured to the spot, as if anyone didn’t know what he was talking about. Everyone in the hall must have been staring at him by now, even the girl with ink on her face, but if they were, Ronan didn’t notice. His head swam with panic. This wasn’t how breakfast was supposed to go, and if he couldn’t even get breakfast right, there was no hope for the rest of the day.

@Laoise Murdoch
@Cameron Blackwood
@Rory Storm
Ben! · 16 · 5th · · · 5"11
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Jun 14 2018, 10:49 PM   Link Quote
Cameron settled into his seat, twirling his fork semi-anxiously in his fingers. Something about the mornings made him more awake: at least, by now he had the time to be fully awake after his trip to the lake per usual. Up until the afternoon was the time Cam seemed to have the most energy, but by the time his classes were through, he was thoroughly exhausted. It took sheer willpower and lots of tea from the kitchens to keep him focused enough for homework. That, and the ever-present knowledge that his mothers were depending on him to do well. The name Blackwood had be dragged through the mud for years now, and Popov was no better, and so he was a glimmering clean slate for them. He felt the weight of that settle on his shoulders much too often.

Laoise was very kind, that was one thing that he had be certain of for some time now. She welcomed into their morning routine gracefully, seeing as he had never exactly asked to become a part of their group. Or rather, their couple: just the two of them with their quiet conversation in the mornings. It was kind of environment he thrived in, with Laoise's sweet voice. Cameron had a habit of seeing enemies where there were none, but no amount of his own mind's creations could really dispute the fact that she had always been nothing but nice, and not only to him. This was when his gaze settled on the other occupant of the table: Ronan Ivers.

One of the first things Cameron knew of Ronan was that he was a creature of absolute habit. Rather, of routine. Every morning Cam had spent with them, now, he had the same breakfast and the same behavior. The conversations changed, but nothing else did. It was almost as if he was a train running down one exclusive track: the sights around him changed, but the path was always the same. Cameron feared how hard Ronan would crash the moment something fell in his way. However, no one had interrupted the three of them with their strange arrangement thus far, and he hoped no one would. The whole reason he was here was to avoid the crowds, after all, and one could argue he had already made this a crowd. Perhaps Ronan would argue that. Cameron always saw something different in his eyes when he was regarded, rather than Laoise which was much calmer.

Ronan was unsure of him, as if he held some unprecedented danger inside of him. He could be right, and even Cameron would be unaware of it. Whatever it is.

He was about to respond to Laoise's question when she stopped partway through it, and he had to peek up from his breakfast in order to see what had caused her to pause. He got his answer rather fast; Rory Storm. Cameron was not a social butterfly, and just about anyone you asked could confirm that, but even he had heard of the fourth year's incessant rule-breaking. It wasn't as if Cameron didn't break the rules. It was moreso that he did not get caught, and Rory most certainly did, and wherever he did go, he seemed to bring a lot of noise with him. Cameron, whom was not fond of noise or rowdy boys, was immediately put on guard by the lion's presense. He seemed to curl in on himself more, and began absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb over the soft cuff of his sweater.

It looked like the lion had slept in the barn. Cameron's nose crinkled at the scent of hay, and he noticed the dirt and grass smears here and there. He went onto the grounds daily, and yet it was apparently impossible to keep yourself clean whilst doing so. Of course, back home, Cameron would often get dirty when he spent nights with his mother in the woods. But that was different. Also, he never tracked it indoors. The poor house elves... He sighed and shyed away as, out of all of them, the boy chose to sit next to him. A prickle of unease crept up Cameron's spine. He was surely not comfortable; it felt like Rory had stolen all the space he'd been taking up, which was always incredibly easy for boys like Rory, and very hard for him.

Laoise responded in the way that suggested Rory made her uncomfortable too, but in an entirely different way than he made Cameron uncomfortable. After a moment, Cameron finally regarded Ronan with sudden realization- just as the Ravenclaw sprung to his feet. Alarm spiked in the Hufflepuff. He had known Ronan was a creature of habit, but this? This was manic. He recognized the look scrawled into the older boy's face: all tightly wound like a spring about to be let go. Cameron could sense the disaster coming like the feel of the air during a lightning storm. Someone had to do something. Cameron felt anxiety flush his blood feverishly quick, but he cleared his throat and turned to Rory. "No one invited you to sit here. You should have asked. Ronan's right." He shot Ronan a sidelong look. Someone had to support him here, because Laoise clearly knew Rory or liked him. Cameron might be bad at preforming socially, but at least he could read a situation. "Right, Laoise?" He prompted. 'Think of your friend,'

@Laoise Murdoch
@Rory Storm
@Ronan Ivers

--------------------
I took a little journey to the unknown,
And I come back changed, I can feel it in my bones.
I fucked with the forces that our eyes can't see,
Now the darkness got a hold on me.
🌙🌙🌙
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