Christmas is a Necessity PV Headliner Team

Interacting w/ @Alexx Séverin

Winter was a bad time to feel alone. In the autumn, you could wander, could let the sun wash over you and fill you with feelings of contentment. But in winter, you were trapped, stuck in buildings, forever feeling lonely inside and out. In winter, Asteria felt her lack of roots acutely, a deep and cutting thing. Oh, she wasn't alone. There were friends, people to commiserate and explore with, to make things with, but there was nothing and no one that made her truly feel rooted at Hogwarts.

That might have been why she had applied to work at the Headliner. It seemed like a place to start, a place to make people, a way to carve out a niche of Hogwarts that was her own, as best she could. So far though, she hadn't found the time to really bond with her peers at the newspaper. Yes, there was George, but they had met through extraneous circumstances, and her friendship with him was rooted in shared ridiculousness, not any kind of mutual bonding over work. And there lay the rub: the work. The thing that brought them all together was also the thing that meant that the staff didn't have much time to bond, always busy dashing around with the latest assignment.

So the party was a welcome thing, a distraction from both the end of term chaos, and a way to simply get to know her peers. It would be a good way to end the year, a good story to bring home hopefully, a way to assure her dad that Hogwarts wasn't all bad, after all. Speaking of her dad, he was why she had arrived first: he had ingrained in her the importance of arriving early, of putting on a good first impression. The extent to which she had really understood that advice was debatable, to be sure, but she still tried to be early when she could. That was what brought her here, to the doorway of the Ballroom, exactly on the dot.

Pulling open the door and creeping in, she scanned the room, taking in the empty space, and the only other person there: Alexx. Her stomach fell a bit at that. It wasn't that she disliked the editor-in-chief, she was just intimidated, the way any tween is by someone with (slightly) more life experience. Nevertheless, she made a beeline for the Slytherin girl.

"Hi, I- I hope I'm not too early? Or is this one of those things where everyone else is 'fashionably late'. I've never quite understood the point of that though." Oh god, she thought, she was rambling now, tugging on a loose strand of hair, one of her (many) nervous tics. "Anyway, the party looks-" she took a moment to really take in the decorations and set up of the cavernous space, "-it looks really nice." 

Most of George's communications with the rest of the Headliner came through bulletin board postings, and brief brushes with each other in the office, when he stopped by to see it. Primarily, it was messages dropped hurriedly in his lap by overworked owls, suffering the consequences of the holiday season in the form of excess post. Everywhere you looked was a hail of gifts and cards, parcels of school supplies delivered to the new students. He hadn't gotten any of that yet - his mother had sent in a letter encouraging him to put himself out there. So he did - this would be the second party of his career, and his first adventure as a new member of the exclusive team of reporters at the school newspaper. It was a thrill writing that back to his mother - she'd surely be impressed with all of his wit and intelligence. Dad would get a good laugh out of the idea.

Despite all of his enthusiasm to get involved, he couldn't quite dress the part. He'd been neglecting his wardrobe in favour of saving up for some kind of pet - an unwise decision, considering that an owl would be little more than a noisy, messy money-sink that could deliver the post. Such a thing was undoubtedly cooler than a new pair of trousers, however. He showed up in a serviceable pair, scarred with off-colour thread from many mending jobs. Dressed to the nines, he thought, even if he looked a bit stuffy.

Shoving his shoulder against the door to open it, he pushed past the grand entrance and into the ballroom. He was relieved to hear soft jazz instead of grating holiday music - perhaps the editor in chief has read his article and been convinced? The jazzy melody dulled the anxiety he felt to impress the boss. It sounded just like one of his father's records - one of the ancient, dusty discs that he'd spend 30 minutes picking out and 5 minutes listening to before dinner. The boy's dress shoes clacked like steel boots on the floor as he jammed himself into the conversation between Alexx and Asteria, the latter getting a wide, toothy grin before he reined in his smile. Subdued, professional, and classy.

"Pure barry!" he interjects, leaning back and letting his gaze wander of the decorations pointedly. What? Whether or not one understands the slang, it's evident that he's quite impressed by the work of the editor in chief. The lad leans back and spreads his arms out to indicate the full ensemble, nearly knocking himself over amid the theatrics. "Hello, Asteria! And hello, miss Alexx! George Henry, it's a pleasure."

He shuffles along a few steps to grab a beverage before returning to his place, extending a hand for whoever wants a shake of it.

@Alexx Séverin & @Asteria Kurokawa