Dark Dissension

Invitations for the following (plus 1 guest)

Ms Hannah Abbott
Mr Jude Alderton
Mr Laetus Chambers
Ms Seren Fawcett
Mr Justin Finch-Fletchley
Mr Seamus Finnigan
Ms Daphne Greengrass
Ms Ainsley Innis
Mr Neville Longbottom
Ms Morag MacDougal
Mr Harry Potter
Ms Demelza Robins
Mr Zacharias Smith
Ms Nephthys Spinks
Mr Dean Thomas

( Invitations by express owl post )

Who: Hannah Abbott and Leto Chambers
What: Hannah escapes her overprotective best friend for something that is NOT a booty call.
Where: His flat
When: Night. Sunday, 10 March
Rating: Um, open?
Status: Closed;Incomplete

Now she was in a sour mood. She was trying not to be, trying desperately to go back to being relieved and happy and excited like she had felt a few hours ago, but Justin had stomped all over that. Yes, she made mistakes, and alright - maybe she had the worst track record when it came to relationships, but they weren't his business and he had no right to interfere. This was different, she felt sure of that. Leto wasn't like the others - he was respectful, and chivalrous. Maybe he was also a Death Eater who until recently wouldn't admit that she was worth anything, but she was sure that he was still good despite that.

And that's why, she left the house despite her best friend's warnings.

It wasn't long before she was in Diagon, one of the few times she apparated there. It didn't take long to find his apartment, and Hannah took a moment to collect herself before knocking on the door. She didn't want to take her anger out on Leto, because he didn't deserve to be slapped this time around.

Who: Hannah Abbott & Laetus Chambers
What: A date meeting at Hannah's flat
When: Friday, March 7, evening
Rating: TBD
Status: Open; incomplete


He leaned against the doorway as he knocked, a small box in his hand. Leto had deliberately not brought flowers - her comment had distracted him and he was still turning it over in his mind as he waited for her to answer, wondering what he was doing on her doorstep when she was so far beneath him. Thoughts wandering again, he asked himself what her parentage was exactly, then quickly backed away from the idea of that, taking a full step backwards.

As Hannah opened the door, he pressed the box into her fingers with a grin, then added, "It isn't flowers."

Who: Hannah Abbott & Harry Potter
What: A ghost walk
Where: London
When: Sunday, 2nd March, night
Rating: Veering on the side of caution, R for language, potential for possible paranormal violence etc.
Status: Open; incomplete

His toe was throbbing rather painfully and Harry found himself barely resisting the urge to hop about on one foot, yelling and cursing like a kid who'd had their favourite toy yanked from their grasp. Unfortunately, he suspected that it wouldn't go over well, especially seeing as the woman who'd decided it would be fun to tread across his foot was wearing stilettos which could rival a deadly dagger with the point of them. Wary eyes followed the brunette as she walked ahead of him, her short form disappearing into the crowd standing in front of him.

"If you'll just follow me and stay close together to ensure nobody gets lost we'll be fine," a clear, male voice said, ringing through the night air. Harry watched the clouds the came out of his mouth with every word and the expression's of those around him rather than the bearded Muggle leading the tour, interest shining in green eyes. Occasionally he wandered what it would have been like to live his life as strictly Muggle, if he'd never known about Hogwarts, if he didn't know for certain real ghosts existed. Sometimes he wondered if he'd have been drawn to paranormal activities regardless and if he'd end up like these people, many of them tourists, taking a ghost tour with a supposedly experience guide just to get a glimpse into another world.

Pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, Harry unconsciously cleared his throat and shook his head, his hair which was still damp from earlier rain plastering itself to his face and refusing to move. A few people glanced over at him but for the most part he was ignored and he was okay with that; he'd come here mainly to observe. Out of morbid curiosity, he supposed.

Ducking his head down and keeping his eyes, for the most part, on the ground, Harry followed when the group began to move forward, shuffling footsteps. For the most part he didn't listen to the guide. Listening with only half an ear let him know that what he was talking about was, mostly, misinformed rubbish.

Who: Seamus Finnigan and OPEN
What: Rambling thoughts and interaction? This is pretty open, so anything can happen/is welcome.
When: Thursday, February 28, 2005, evening
Where: Diagon Alley
Rating: PG, maybe? Ish?
Status: OPEN, incomplete.



Paychecks, Seamus reflected, tucking the envelope he'd received his in, Are lovely, beautiful things. He enjoyed his work. Took it seriously, which was more than he could say for a lot of things. Steady hands, no real nerves - the people he worked with could take a bang as well as a whisper - either way, when you got right down to it, the world was ending. Scarves, he thought, looking down at the one he was wearing, Are really fecking annoying.

His mam'd made it for him and it looked alright, he guessed, but the ends were kind of floppy and half the time it hung down about his knees because he wasn't really one to go in for that looping around and under and over and up over your forehead thing that so many people seemed to be doing now. Not to mention, Dean'd give him a load of shite the size of France if he did, so it just sort of existed around his neck and he thought it might be a bit too thin.

Pausing on the corner, a few blocks from Knockturn and the road with no name that he'd have to take back to his flat, rubbed at the back of his neck beneath the knitted fabric and frowned. Manginas aside, the past few days had been nothing but trouble so far as he was concerned. Least I've got my bleeding shoulders, he thought rubbing at the left one almost as though he was making sure he actually did still have it.

Seamus' definition of 'trouble,' though, was fairly different from everyone else's. At least that was what he'd been told in the past. Most people said trouble meant something bad. For Seamus, it was something boring. There were only so many inner-office memos you could send before people started twatting you over the back of the head for being obnoxious and Dean didn't even have anything he'd forgotten, so there was nothing he could remind his best friend about. And he'd been sorely lacking in the snogging department, too.

"Now that," he said, taking a step forward and not really looking at where he was going, "That is a tragedy."

Who: Hannah Abbott and Leto Chambers
What: Hannah’s far too curious for her own good, and wants to know more about Leto’s beliefs.
Where: Florean Fortescue's, Diagon Alley
When: 8:45pm, Monday night
Rating: PG/PG-13
Status: Closed; Incomplete

Perhaps she did come off as naïve – it wasn’t the first time she had been accused of that, and Hannah would bet money that it wasn’t going to be the last. It really wasn’t that she was naïve though, because naivety implied stupidity – or at least immaturity, and she was neither stupid nor immature. What she was, and what got her in trouble time and time again, was curious. Leto made her very curious, and the fact that he was a Death Eater was only part of that. It was more his intelligence that caught her attention, because it was obvious that he was extremely smart.

She had met Death Eaters, of course, and plenty more who believed what Voldemort preached, but she had never spoken to them about their beliefs. It wasn’t that she was afraid to ask, because Hannah rarely saw boundaries on appropriate questions, it was that she didn’t think they’d have a good answer for her. The war was full of idiots from what she saw – well, not idiots, but people who didn’t know what they were fighting for. Most of them at least. It seemed like everyone thought that there were only two choices: destroy the muggles, or protect them... and war was never that simple.

Some people might think she was crazy for not hating him, simply because his beliefs had torn her family and everything she knew apart, but she didn’t. After all, he could just as easily hate her for being more in favor of the people who had killed his parents – and in the end, it would do neither of them any good. No one was going to come back from the dead, and no one would benefit from vengeance. And people would definitely think she was insane for asking to meet him, but she saw no threat - she doubted a return to Azkaban was something he wanted.

She waited for him inside the ice cream shop – easy to find, since there were no other customers (ice cream wasn’t a popular dessert in the middle of February), idly playing with a dish of glittering sprinkles that had been left on the table. She looked completely relaxed, which she was, and completely vulnerable, which she wasn’t: Hannah had no reason to be afraid as long as she stayed inside the shop. She was safe under the strong net of her own protective charms that covered every last millimeter and made the small hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand slightly on end.