The first domino PV | Elena Clark closed

xxxxxxxx

Elena had always thought of herself as a mirror. A thing others regarded as perfect, flawless, its pristine surface showing them what they wished to see - though, if one were to look close enough, they might notice some cracks running along its design, small imperfections that gave the whole thing an odd, displaced appearance. It wasn't the kind of mirror that simply reflected, but the ones that entirely shifted to adapt under other's gaze, when they looked at her. Or at themselves. Rare were those who truly saw her. She had a nasty habit of absorbing emotions that never belonged to her, of letting them rot from within until it was barely above the unbearable. It wasn't something she tried to do, not consciously - reading people, analysing the situation and shifting into what might work best for them to like her. Empathy might be thought of as a gift, but it often felt like a curse. Losing their sense of self, not knowing what lingers behind the layers that grow harder and harder to peel - being terrified of discovering something horrid, something wrong behind the shiny surface. So, when others erected a fortress of imprenetrable walls to protect what they desperately wished to be noticed (though they did everything in their powers to avoid that situation), she hid behind a mirror. Today, she wandered without a second thought, her steps leading the way towards the unknown. This past week had been exhausting, every socialisation seemingly an impossible effort. She guessed it was a result of the little escapade on valentine's day - spending an entire weekend with people she barely knew might have had drained up to her very last drop of social battery. Holding on the bare minimum, which meant responding without raising suspicions and participating in conversations - more like being here, actually; she tried to avoid unecessary company as much as possible. Which meant taking detours like the one she was currently walking towards. Her fingers trailed across the railing, slowly descending the ever-shifting stairs that sometimes drove students mad. The castle shifted at its own whims, not caring who might be caught in the crossfire - a game she was willing to play today. A faint chill clung to her skin, as her hands began twisting strands of golden hair, tying it in a loose, slightly messy braid. Lost in concentration, she noticed a second to late the raging blonde storm that errupted just below the staircase. Oliver. Dusty blonde hair, cynical blue eyes and a forever superior expression plastered on its face. A forest prince, who cried tears of gold and kept its heart ensnared in thornes. Though his disdainful expression was now flickering - a storm shaking the unyelding trees, bending their branches until their trunk rips. His pace was hurried, unsteady yet absent. He didn't look around, didn't see the ethreal girl following her with navy eyes. Stumbled upon the first door her found, almost crashing against it. Breath unsteady, grip tight around what seemed to be a textbook. He stormed inside of the room. Elena hesitated. She had met him a couple of times before, moments where he had only fueled her insatiable curiosity. He wasn't as intimidating as he tried to be, at least not in the way others might deem him. He had been rude when they met, all sharp edges and thorny words, but there was something beneath it. Something that triggered her. Cracks, like those running up her mirror - rotten leaves, scattering his forest. Hidden doors, locked cabinets of thoughts and feelings, the very things he claimed not knowing. Layers she could peak through but never fully uncover. Reason number one - curiosity. She descended the stairs, breath slowing down unconsciously, her pace turning softer. His anger and frustration lingered in the air, a pain that choked her - like smoke filling up her lungs, leaving a decaying aftertaste on her tongue. She knew that pain, that desesperation, and it ached. The worst was not being able to do anything, starring at your reflection while pieces of you slowly detach and twirl down in the air, cuts on your hands as you attempt to pull them back it. Your appearance, your persona, everything you worked so hard to build - falling apart for no reason. Looming figures, behind you, stating that you should try harder, harder again. It's not that hard, isn't it ? To be perfect. Not that hard. She wanted to help him ache that burning feeling, like a fire eating you alive. No one should be consumed like this. Reason number two - empathy. She reached the door, which was left opened - not even being discreet on purpose, but time always slower whenever someone was mad around her. Her sense were heightened, her steps more silent. In the dim light offered by the small window, a figure was leaned over a lavatory, shoulders drawn, muscles tensed up to the very tip of his fingers. His hand clenched around the edges of a book, twisting the pages, trying to contain his anger. Her own shoulders tensed slightly, eyes shifting into a worried expression. And then his eyes met hers, starring at her through the mirror adorning the wall. She tensed immediatly, surprised by the anger and hatred contained in his gaze. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her sleeve, back straightening. He didn't want her here, that was much clear. But instead of cowering away, she took a slow, calming step inside, presence hesitant yet deliberate. "Hey."

xxxxxxxx

He sat down, not caring about how sanitary it was. His mind was spilt in two, caring about things to much, and not caring about things at all. Studying in the bathroom? Didn't care at all. Reading the page off this book, you ruined the book Oliver, great. Ruined it like everything else. and making sure he could get the grade up. Crouched down, he made the futile attempt to flatten the page, however. A paper once crumpled could never be re shaped to the pristine look it had. His eyes glided over the words, yet nothing stayed.

Great, now he couldn't even read. Would it even matter? He had the book almost damn near memorized. Wasn't enough. Clearly he could still do better, the first rule of charms. Concentration? Was it that? Or was that the second? Even with the book right under his nose, he couldn't tell exactly. He knew he did good on the tests, on the written work. Useless to read. Not when it was the wands fault. Or even was it that? The wand was broken. The wand shoved into his pocket, He ignored it. If the wand was broken it wouldn't cast at all.

Oliver had to be the broken one. He took a shuttering breath. Started with the stupid sorting hat. Damn that hat. Once Oliver found it he would d- "Hey." The voice of someone. Someone intruding on him. Someone- a girl? In the bathroom? He looked up at her, eyes, narrowed, and defensive. He held the book tighter, fragile paper ripping in his hands. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No, just a book. It was nothing. He didn't care. He didn't look away from her. Not that he didn't want to. He wasn't sure if he could. No one was supposed to find him. But damn. It was a bathroom. Real smart Oliver. Stupid. No wonder he had a stupid A.

Her, the girl, stupid girl she was. Elena Clark. He didn't like her. If there was any chance of him liking her it was gone. All gone. She was an intruder. A tall figure looming over him. For one of the first times in Oliver's life, he felt. Weak. Almost, something close to that at least. He had first meet her at the party, where he found out the only people he could think of as friends hadn't told him something important. Didn't matter. He didn't need them. He had friends. Elena had accused him of not having any. That he didn't 'open up' though clearly there was nothing that he needed to open up about.

Frozen, for maybe only a few seconds. But what could've been hours. At least, it had felt that way. "Wh-" No his voice was shaking to much. He tried again, clearing his throat. "What do you want?" Yes. Better, it sounded angry. And hurt. But anger was better then sadness. Anger gave him a reason, he could be angry at himself, but when did that ever get anyone anything at all? Never. That would be right. And now Elena was here. He could be angry at her. She had already said things to him at the party, things that gave him reason to pause and think about how he should feel about her. Now, she was in the bathroom. The boys bathroom. "You shouldn't be here." He bit out at her. Not ignoring his own problems at all. Nope.

He was fine. And didn't need her psycho annalist bull shit right now. Clearly he was trying to study. He had things to do, and didn't have time for her. His parents told him to that he should spend less time hanging out with friends. Not that Elena was a friend. Still, she was someone. And if he shouldn't be hanging with friends, he shouldn't be hanging with everyone. It was just what his parents had said. And they knew better then anyone. Not this girl who had said one word to him. But he could see it in her eyes, her deep eyes. Like the laughing group of friends. She was judging him. He could feel it in his bones. Hear it whispered in his head. He didn't need this. Needed to study. Needed to be better.

OUTFIT & INVENTORY Reducio Wand, school bag, what not.

OOC NOTE & STATS/ABILITIES Reducio No one trust a thing Oliver is thinking of right now lmao. He is very unreliable currently :3 Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura { Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }

Interacting : @Elena Clark |||| @n/a : Mentioning

xxxxxxxx

She did ot move at first. The door hung open behind her, the cold air of the corridor brushing agaist the egde of her neck, earning slight chills all over her back. Everything urged her to leave - and yet she stayed. There was something in the way he sat, collapsed into himself like a thin figure made of fleeting paper, creased and folded one too many times, always rewrote and erase, never perfect. If she reached out, would he crumple further ? Or lash out, torn parchment set ablaze ? The way his finger clutched at the book, knuckles white, paper tearing over the pressure of his grip - trying so hard to contain himself. His attempt to smoothe the page had only succeeded in messing it further, a mess impossible to clean. Ink stain, one that no amount of water could erase. Some things, once damaged, never returned to what they had been - her fingers tightened around herself, silencing the thoughts. This wasn't about her, but about this boy with the broken crown. His anger burned, but it wasn't a screaming red or a burning orange. No, it was something deeper, more rotten, a heavy, tainted maroon like the last flickers of a dying star right before its explosion. It clung to its skin, settled right into him, the tense set of his shoulders, his breath sharp but uneaven. Trying to hold the pieces of him that were slowly falling apart. His blue eyes - an ocean. He was drowning, gasping for air, yet she had a feeling he would refuse any extended hand, bubbles of oxygen rising up to the surface as he bit back - I'm fine. His voice cut through the silence, jagged at the edges. "What do you want." She didn't flinch, but felt the weight of it settle within her chest. Anger, worn like an armor, one that would pierce right through the tender skin of her heart if she didn't know it was more of a defense mechanism than real loathing. He needed it, needed the sharpness of the thores ensnaring his throat, because who cared about hurting oneself if it meant preventing others from doing so ? Anger as an answer against grief. Anger as an illusion of control. "You shouldn't be here." Pushing her away, probably thinking she was solely here to mock him. She slipped a golden strand behind her ear and took a step closer - without a flicker of hesitation, she sat, joining him on the dirty, decaying ground. Tucking her legs beneath her, she let her navy blue trail over him in what she hoped a gentle, honest expression. Elena wasn't sure what to say, walking on thin ice. Words, handled incorrectly, could quickly become weapons. And Oliver looked like he had already be cut enough times to know how to bleed without making a sound. "Maybe," she finally replied, voice clear yet soft. "But I'm not leaving you like this."

xxxxxxxx

Fair warning, last paragraph has quite a bit of language. Oliver is in his feels. </3

Her words, How calmly and sickeningly sweet they were on his ears. It pissed him off. How dare she come in here, and try to comfort him. He didn't need this, she shouldn't be in. She didn't even know him, he sure as hell didn't know her. "I'm fine. I can be left in peace. Get out." He told her, slamming the ruined book in his hands shut. And tossing it on the ground at his feet. Sliding on the floor from the force of his near throw, not to much, but enough to wear it made a noise. Landing just a few inches from his feet. No response from Elena. She just stood, staring at him.

He hated it. Hated her. Hated Hogwarts. Hated this stupid house. And how shitty everything had been because he'd been sorted into it. "I said get out." Why wouldn't she move? Why didn't he? His legs worked, at least he was pretty sure. If he was more so sure he could walk without swaying or falling he would. "Quit starting! Huh? Just do- something!" His voice got louder, shook more. She just stared at him, but wasn't getting angry, wasn't doing anything. Just- being there.

"Are you going to mock me? Point at me? Laugh?" He questioned. He didn't know why she cared, after all they didn't know each other, not really at least. Only cordial things. Exchanging pleasantries, And just a few short talks. There was nothing that should have given her an idea that he needed her help. Nothing. Damnit, she was pissing him off. "Didn't you hear me?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Get out!" He repeated himself. Louder. "Get out!" Louder still. "Get out!" Once again, louder. This time however, he grabbed the nearest object. This being the stupid, ruined book. And thew it as hard as he could at Elena. It could have been lucky for her, Oliver was having a bad day. And his aim had been off. It hit the wall, with a loud smash, falling face down open on the floor. He was breathing heavy, for what reason?

Then, tears. He couldn't stop it. To many emotions or something like that. He tried to wipe at his eyes, but it didn't work. And Elena had done the best worst thing she could have in that moment. She hugged him. It felt quick and sudden, and so... nice.. It felt, so weird. So, not nice. He didn't have the words. Oliver could have easily pushed her off of him, he just- didn't feel like it was all. Yeah that was it. "I think my parent's hate me." Words out before he could stop them. Why he said it? Who knew. Who cared anymore. Elena had seen him cry. Nothing mattered. Armani's never cried. And he did. In front of Elena Clark. Nothing else could be worse.

"After all who wouldn't?! I'm an ass, in Slytherin of all the stupid houses in this stupid school, I just happen to be in the worst one. Armani's aren't Slytherin's. They aren't anything but Gryffindor. I fucked it all up! And my stupid grades. I- I cant keep them up. I have a damn A. That's a death fucking sentence. I get stupid detentions, from stupid teachers, got my ass kicked by a fucking mudblood." All of it was spilling out. He couldn't stop it. Fucking pathetic. "My best grade? Fucking herbology. That won't help me ever! How the hell can I follow my parent's footsteps, if I everything I do is fucking wrong."

OUTFIT & INVENTORY Reducio Wand, school bag, what not.

OOC NOTE & STATS/ABILITIES Reducio The light godmodding of Elena has been approved, though as always if Lena see's anything that need's to be changed please owl/dm me Also lowkey not super happy about how this turned out but wanted to get it out for my fav french (Next one should be better queen </3) Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura { Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }

Interacting : @Elena Clark |||| @n/a : Mentioning

xxxxxxxx

How dreadfully alone stars must feel. Emitting light, shining as bright as they can, a scream in the infinite void that is space, hoping, praying someone notice them - but how could they ? When they stand among equally, or brighter luminaries, their light outshining their own ? And how can they be jealous of it, when it's up to them to shine harder, try harder ? How very terrifying it can be, to know the only way you might be seen is through a supernova. An explosion, erasing what makes you you, loosing everything but hey, at least now their eyes are on you. Disappointed, sure. Heavy with reproches, blaming you for the mess you made by destroying yourself so they might finally notice you, of course. But on you. Until it's not. Until you've ripped your own flesh out, bathed in your own blood, only for them to look away. For who are you, if not the light you produce ? His light was dim. Fainted, as if choked and muffled by the layers of masks and pretending he bore his entire life. Masks that now had cracks running along their surfaces, and the searing, angry light they had concealed was begging, yearning to break through. Hatred written across his every feature, such a burning rage that might have scared her off, had she not felt the pain it was hiding. A pain that ground her into place, even while he slammed the book on the floor with an intensity that almost made her flinch. Elena remained silent, simply looking at him, waiting for the explosion. His supernova. It was building up, slowly, gradually, his traits twisting and flinching. His voice rose, louder and louder until he only screamed, probably upset she didn't look away like everyone did. I will not, said her eyes, to everything he yelled. I will not get out, nor move, nor mock you, point at you or laugh. The urge to reach out to him was overwhelming, for physical touch was the pinacle of comfort - at least to her. But she needed to let him explode, let him rip the masks with the force of a desperate man, let his light sear through the layers and reveal itself. When he closed his hand around the book, his heart leaped a few inches. It took her everything she had in her to not dodge, flinch or close her eyes, too scared it might break the trance-like state Oliver was in. He was almost there, she could see it in the way his breath grew heavier, his heart pumping blood as fast as it could. And then he broke. Tears started streaming down his face, a sight that made her heart clench. She could not restrain herself any longer, and pulls him into a tight hug. The intensity of his feelings hit her like a train, and silver tears escaped her, matching his own. He didn't push her away, which only made her tighten her grip, trying to squeeze the sadness out of him. "I think my parents hate me." She froze at the sudden confession, looking up. He kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the floor, and yet tears were still rolling down his cheeks. Elena pulled away, slightly, just to give him a bit of space, but kept her hands on his arms. A lingering contact, a tight grip, saying everything that might feel too awkward worded out - I'm sorry ; I'm here ; I'm listening to you. His rant felt messy, stumbling over his words as if pure lava was coming out of his mouth, as if he could not hear himself talking, shameful confession. When his breath ran out, she hugged him again, tighter than last time. Each sentence felt a little too close to home, for the young raven had had her fare share of 'you're not good enough' back as a child. One of the reasons she swore she would never stand by someone in pain. "You're enough." The words came out whispered, raspy and stutter, yet sincerity was woven through every syllable. "You're enough," she whispered again after a minute, slightly louder. "You're. Enough." The last words were uttered loud and cleared, as she looked in his pond-coloured eyes. "You are not your grades, or your house, or what you think your parents think about you." The despair and pain written across his features was worse than a stab in her tender heart, and she pulled him close again, hugging him so tight she feared she might break a bone or two. "You are your own person, and none of these things should dictate how you feel about yourself. No one can be the best at everything, and no one can be nor is perfect. We each have our specificities, what makes us us, and it's certainly not 'having good grades' or 'being into gryffindor'. If you like nature and herbology, then damn the rest ! Who has the right to tell you what you should enjoy, what you should spend hours do, who has the right to tell you who you are but yourself ?"

xxxxxxxx

He sniffled, and wiped at his eyes, as his rant finished, god. What would they do if they saw him now? Crying like some baby, as if he didn't know how to deal with it. He looked at Elena, was she crying to? Shit. What did one do when girls cried? Everything was messy, nothing made seance. Nothing was right. Oliver didn't know what to do, the hug was nice, but he hated it. He didn't want it to stop. He wanted to push Elena away and never even look at her again. He didn't want to be alone. It was all so- conflicting.

His breath caught in his through as she repeated to measly words. 'your enough'. He let out a small sob, she kept saying it, over and over. Drilling it into Oliver's head. He still didn't know how to feel, what to do. What his life had become. He had thought he'd known everything just that morning, and in a few hours everything had fallen down. One stupid grade. One grade that didn't mater. It mattered more then anything, how could it drop?. And then the one thing he promised not to do happened.

He was weak. He was a coward. Showing his emotions to a girl he wasn't sure he even liked. He was pulled tighter into the hug, his eyes wide, her grip strong. Her words almost a wake up call. Even if not the way they were meaning to. Oliver hesitated, holding his arms up, battling to pull her close, or shove her away. Again, she starting a 'pep talk' god. Weak. Weak. Weak little boy. He wrapped his arms around her. "Shit..." He whispered, voice cracking, almost like it was his first curse. And he was afraid to get caught. She was right, his parents shouldn't have any say. But they had it all.

But no- He was the one making the choice to let them hover over his shoulder, wasn't he? Was it his fault that he was failing? Despite the fact he wasn't it was just a stupid A. Oliver laughed. A self deprecating laugh. "What the hell am I doing..." He asked himself, more so then asking Elena, he dropped his arms, away from her, still didn't push her off. Why don't you push her off Oliver? He was being ridiculous. Elena helped him see that, even if it hadn't been her intention.

Oliver needed to suck it up. As in a way, she was right. He was crying because of what his parent's might think. Not with what they would. He still had time to get the grade up. It was one or two bad assignments that brought it down, He needed to ace the rest. He sniffled again, wiping his tears on his sleave. How stupid he must look right now. He was breathing somewhat heavily. "Your right." He looked at her. "Your right," He said again, like he couldn't believe someone he didn't know could make good points.

He hated her. quit lying to yourself Oliver. He had, mostly stopped crying now. He tapped his foot, thinking, thinking way to much. About everything, and nothing. Mind racing. Trying to find a solution for this. "I mean, I'm worried about how they may feel." He ran a hand through his hair, resting his head on the wall behind him. "I should focus on how I feel right? that's pretty much what you said."

Oliver may have missed the point, but he was getting there. He cleared his throat, and again wiped at his eyes. Trying to get it to stop. It wouldn't. "We will never talk of this." He said, trying to sound stern. But it came off as- not that. Whatever the hell he said, it wasn't stern at all. He still sounded like a baby. At least to his ears. He couldn't let this get out. That he had broken down, in a fucking bathroom of all places. And needed to be comforted by some nobody. "Please.." He added. Cursing himself mentally. He sounded like a no good poor beger. "Just- this never happened."

OUTFIT & INVENTORY Reducio Wand, school bag, what not.

OOC NOTE & STATS/ABILITIES Reducio Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura { Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }

Interacting : @Elena Clark |||| @n/a : Mentioning

xxxxxxxx

A leap of faith. Reaching the edge of a cliff, looking down at the raging sea, glimpsing the sharpness of the rocks awaiting your fall. A whisper, in your ear. They will catch you. They ? Who ? You're alone, perched atop of this decaying piece of earth, walls slowly crumbling around you. What choice is there ? The fall is inevitable. Let them help you. Help ? No amount of assistance can save you from this situation. You are alone. As you always were. Are you ? They appear out of thin air. Their eyes are piercing through your skin, unraveling everything that is wrong about you. They see you. It's ugly, messy, terrifying. Is it ? 'You can't help me', you tell them. It's too late. The fall is inevitable. They just smile, and jump. You step back, heart pounding. Is this the only help you deserved ? The cliff continues to crumble. They are not here to save you. You shake your head, clinging onto whatever you can find, feet kicking the air. The earth is tilting. And you will fall. Take their hand. Close your eyes. There they are again, beside you. 'How ?' They just smile, extending a hand made of pure light. 'We will fall', you tell them. You will. But you will fall together. You shake your head, but your fingers are slipping, body growing heavier. 'I'm fine. Down there, I know it'll hurt. At least here, I am safe.' They drop themselves closer, light warming your freezing skin. It will hurt eventually. But you don't have to face it alone. Reaching the edge of the world, they turn around, fingers reaching for you. All it takes is a leap of faith. What will you choose, Oliver ? The golden-haired girl still held him tightly, and despite his obvious inner conflict, he seemed to yield to her warmth. Only for a moment, though. He did not exactly pushed her away, as certainly more than half his cells yearned to, yet the tension lodged in every single limb of his body told her more than enough. Pulling away slightly, she kept a lingering hand on his shoulder - not pressing it, just... resting. His next lines gave her a glimmer of hope, as sapphires looked up, awaiting the rest of it. Could it have been this easy ? Was the boy finally done with the crumbling crown whose sharp edges were embedded in her skull, leaving marks on his fragile skin ? The raging hatred she found in his eyes struck her like lightning, as a worried frown creased her eyebrows. At least he didn't have any books left to throw at her. "Um," she hesitated, sensing he had misinterpreted her words. Still, better was better, and an improvement was more than she could have wished for. "Yes, I suppose you could look at it this way." Not wanting to add another layer of comfort, she decided it was best to remain silent, and rework it another day. If... if there was another day. Locking gaz with him, she couldn't help the pain that flashed through her night-sky eyes, as her shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment. His plea, though, as well as the sob still woven through his voice, rekindled a spark of hope. "No one will know a word," she spoke with a soft smile, tugging a honey strand behind her shoulder. "But that doesn't mean it never happened." Knowing she was walking on thin ice, she stepped back slightly, giving him the necessary space to snap without needing to knock her off his path. "If you-... I mean, you can come to-...," she stammered, before taking a deep breath. "If you ever need me, just know I'll be there." Looking at his tense shoulders, his eyes resolutely fixed on the floor, and his back half-turned to her, she knew it was time to retire. Before leaving, she turned around one last time, hand on the doorframe. "I'm going to Hogsmeade, this afternoon. If you ever need to take your mind off everything, hot chocolate is on me." On that thought, she walked out.

xxxxxxxx

He let out a self pitying laugh, running a hand through his sweaty hair. Wiping the back of his hand on his tear stained cheeks. He was, better? Maybe. He still didn't know there was a lot going on, in his head, in the bathroom, at his house he was sure. He would put on a front, of course he would. Not admitting to himself that he needed to open up to people. Not yet at least. He looked at Elena Clark with a bit of a glare. "No, never happened." For some reason, he trusted her that she wouldn't spill his little moment of weakness. Sadly, he didn't think she would just ignore the 'situation'.

Oliver's icey blue eyes watched as she took a step back. He took a deep breath, and nodded. Listening to her words. Someone to talk to? He had Aaron. He needed no one else but him. Not Elena, but maybe if he was desperate enough he would talk or was it called vent? Whatever. He had his cat as well. No need for Elena. His shoulders were tight, like his whole body. Tensed up. He couldn't bring himself to tell her off, that he didn't need her help. All Oliver could do was nod.

He clenched his jaw turning away from her, acting like he wasn't paying attention. He heard her, loud and clear. His heart may as well have dropped. Hogsmeade? She was going there? And had invited him? That- They were first years, they couldn't be there. Why would she admit to him that she was going. Why would she bring him into that, if she went and got caught he could get in trouble. By the time he turned around, Elena was gone.

He took a deep breath, great. She ruined everything. Damn her. He should go and turn her in, to a prefect or someone with authority. Maybe just leave and try not to think of anything, Oliver again took a deep breath, ignore this day, he stood up, ignore her, picking up his trashed book, pretend this never happened. Oliver left the bathroom, all intentions to just act like he didn't know her. Maybe 'rat' on her and her plans.

Although, she had just been trying to help. Even if Oliver didn't want the help, should he really be a dick for that? Fine, she won this round. He wouldn't rat. He would keep her secret, as she was keeping his. He didn't understand the fun of Hogsmeade, he grew up there. Nothing fun to do really. He wouldn't take up her offer, he wouldn't. There was no reason, no reward, just risk. But damn, if Hot Chocolate didn't sound good.

OUTFIT & INVENTORY Reducio Wand, school bag, what not.

OOC NOTE & STATS/ABILITIES Reducio Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura { Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }

Interacting : @Elena Clark |||| @n/a : Mentioning

Oliver leaves thread
thread completed