Who: Michael Corner and Igor Karkaroff. What: Michael goes to pick up his package from Flourish and Blotts and then skulks around Knockturn Alley. When: Sunday, June 24th. Early morning. Where: Flourish and Blotts & Knockturn Alley. Rating: Some hints of boy stuff, but not described. Open/Closed: Semi-Open. Ping if want in?
Michael woke up in an absolutely foul mood on Sunday. He laid in bed staring at the ceiling and tried to piece together why. It might have been dreams throughout the night, scarcely remembered but Michael wasn't sure. The best news by far was surely that Terry, realizing he'd cocked up (and was thus a completely normal teenage boy), was probably going to talk to Harmony Summers. Putting his hand behind his head, Michael felt like things would be more normal, like they'd been at Hogwarts last year, if Terry did. Hopefully, he added as he idly twisted at his underarm hair. The perpetual dread of terrorism was always a background worry.
But then again... he'd kind of liked having so much time with Terry, Kevin and Anthony this summer. It had been far more distracting- and pleasant- than he'd admit openly. With Harmony back, he'd have to share. And while he felt an odd turn in his stomach, he knew that was how it would have to be. What was he going to do? Consign Terry, Anthony and Kevin- but Terry especially- to a life of platonic friendship but nothing more? Michael turned over onto his side and took his wand up. He gave it a wave and it presented him the time.
Part of Michael knew he hadn't really chased any birds for awhile because of his friendships. They were so close, and completely emotionally fulfilling. Shagging was brilliant- but not as brilliant as the "public" Michael left his mates to believe he felt. In fact he thought it was kind of hollow and pointless lately. At least he thought that in his nobler moments, when his dick wasn't hard and doing all of his thinking. Out of the times he'd shagged, never had he felt that positive about it after. There were always questions. Would he ever find a girl that the questions would stop and he could simply be?
He sat up and itched a spot under his nipple. His eyes dropped to a book he'd fallen asleep reading, a collection of essays discussing meta-intelligence in magical beasts. They, of course, fixated on dragons and the author's bias was quite clear. Michael had already finished one other, discussing meta-intelligence among the common animals of the world: cephalopods, corvidae, cetaceans and of course primates. And curiously, social-building insects. He squinted into the sun coming through his window, put the book onto his nightstand and blew breath loudly past his loosened lips.
It was tempting to lay in bed all day and do nothing. But he had a set of gifts to buy Longbottom and Potter and he still wanted to go to...
... Michael sat up and tugged his underwear out of his crack- and then all the way down his form. He intended a shower while he tried to mull over benign, pleasant subjects: Anthony studying between curious quips, Terry cooing against Harmony's ear before they slunk to some dark hideaway and likely made each other come. Kevin and he trying to best each other with interesting puzzles. The sweet, chipmunkish smile of Broccoli and the complexity that was Padma.
Padma. Merlin. Michael rose at the thought of her soft, brown skin and exotically dark eyes glancing at him in a fantasy of coquettish eye play between spaces for books on the shelf in the library. Where Mandy was quirky, athletic and approachable, Padma was mysterious and reserved. Having little else to look forward to in an empty house, he tilted his head against the cool tile wall and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, his eyes squinted and mouth half-mooned, body stiff as he finished himself off down the drain at his feet.
It killed the questions for ten minutes, and the water started to get cooler. Once he was done, Michael dried off and got dressed. By the time he was pulling a shirt over his head, he heard the insist tap of a beak against his windowsill. With a curious narrowing of his eyes, he saw it's mottled white and tawny feathers. Michael stepped over and opened it. His breath held. He didn't recognize the owl but his mind went to any number of things: a special release of the Prophet... Terry's overtures to Harmony had been rejected- or accepted. His mother would be early- or late.
It was in fact a barely entertained hope, and something he'd been waiting for. His book was in unexpectedly early. His eyes lit up as he read the title and he glanced over to the book containing essays on animal meta-intelligence. Instead of dressing in casual Muggle attire, Michael found a good robe with a hood, it's color a matte, dark gray. He dressed in it and hurried to take a pinch from the floo powder holder. He stepped into the hearth and announced, "Diagon Alley!" as clearly as he could.
The green flames licked around him as he stepped out onto cobbled streets and intuitively never missed a beat with his stride as he headed for Flourish and Blotts. The sweet smell of Fortescue's sticky, waffled ice cream treats were mingling with the scent of baked crumpets and the char of morning bangers. Michael's stomach rumbled but he ignored it as the bell to the huge bookstore tinkled at his entrance. Unlike normal, Michael didn't immediately veer off and get lost in a sea of shelves and parchment. He went straight for the counter.
"Morning. I got your owl." The young man peered up at the clerk from under his hood, not intending it to look as clandestine as it did. But the money pushed in his direction confirmed that this transaction was a little... inside.
The clerk peered at Michael with half moon glasses like he didn't approve of this. His thin, wrinkled lips showed a marked distaste. "Good Morning, Mr. Corner," the clerk said in a distanced, professional tone, his hand collapsing atop the money as soon as it was shown. "I trust that this-"
"- Is for strictly academic purposes, yes. I'm just curious about them," Michael said hushed. His eyes locked on the parchment wrapped book that the clerk moved to pick up. It was smaller than he'd expected, and Michael could feel part of his heart sink. He feared it wouldn't be as promising as he first thought.
"Excellent. Enjoy your purchase, sir." Michael's hand fell onto the book and met a tug of resistance from the old man. He was surprisingly strong. "It should be. Because to entertain what is in here without proper authorization is an illegal act by the Ministry."
Michael diplomatically smiled and chuckled. "I know that. I'm not daft. I'm just looking for original source material," he offered quietly. The man released the book, whether or not he completely believed Michael.
"Just forget where you got it if you get caught?" The clerk veiled as softly as the boy across from him. Backing away, Michael nodded and slung the parchment covered tome under his arm. The bell sang his exit and his pace would have quickened right back to the Floo save for one thing…
… Michael glanced past his hood to the right. To that place of temptation. He'd meant to go down that way before, but it was right after the Ministry bombing. He wasn't sure it was entirely safe even now. But the allure was there, to go see interesting things that tugged at that carefully controlled and culled darkness.
He took steps toward it and gripping his book a little tighter, he crossed it's threshold. Every time he came here, he almost anticipated a forcefield. Or some of kind strange bell. Something that rang out, "You're in Knockturn Alley." It of course never happened that way. No odd smells. No different sounds. At least not at the beginning. The seed that hung in Michael's tense throat subsided and he tugged a little more on his hood. But then he ventured in.
It was more cramped, more winding than Diagon. Michael stopped and looked into a murky window full of what looked like glassware and pots. He was pretty sure there were things in each of them. He was tempted to poke his nose inside, free hand pressed to the windowpane. He finally manned up and shifted to the door. It squeaked horribly.
Michael moved to several of the potions racks, those being of the closest and most immediate interest. They sparked those little, fizzly interests in him as he turned a few between cautious fingers. He knew he should turn around and go buy Neville and Harry birthday presents, and then finally unwrap his book.