Regulation and Control

Who: Romilda Vane and Pen Borage
Where: A burning building in London
When: Tuesday 17th June
What: Romilda tends to fall into incidents of breaking wild magic. Pen comes to get her before they're both roasted alive.
Rating: It might be G rated. I am so ashamed.
Status: Closed, complete

"Sometimes," Pen said as she landed in the middle of the building, her eyes instantly searing a blazing red from the flames that engulfed the figure ahead. "I really wish I'd stuck with the whole childminding thing I started when I was twelve. It would have been a bit easier." Her hand gripped her wand as she shot a spray of water, accidentally hitting the woman rather than the fire, her vision so blurred by the smoke that it was making it difficult to aim. Which meant, she realized as she shot another burst off, that she wouldn't be able to Apparate either.

"That you, Romilda?" she called as she blinked again. The tears were streaming down her face as she choked the words out, covering her face with a sleeve. The shielding spells weren't working. This had to be wild magic indeed.

( I think I'm the 'grab you and get the bloody hell out' squad and thus far, it doesn't quite look to be working out that way. )

Who: Theo Nott and Katie Jones
What: A not-so-very-chance meeting.
When: June 25, night
Where: La Scala, a lost theatre in Brixton
Rating: PG for present tense.
Status: Closed, complete

Headlights glitter across the windows behind the woman as she walks, her shadow breaking the beams that follow her. With a shrug, Katie tugs the back of her hooded sweatshirt over her head as she turns into the alley, keeping her light hair from catching the light as it tries to stalk her. A slip and a half-step and she'll be nearing the street on which she suspects she'd find the man she's looking for.

A window above her opens and the sound of harsh syllables floats across the alley. She takes advantage of the distraction to make another turn as car doors open and slam behind her. Her trainers press down in the mud, feet slam into a puddle, the squishing sound of the sole echoing in her ears as she started to run. Her breath catches, then quickens, as she whips around another corner, her hair flying from the hood.

Palms flattening against an unknown door, she slips inside an empty building, eyes lifting as she sees the height of the ceilings, cobwebs drifting down against her face. A faint cough escapes her mouth. Her head turns to examine the place that she's come.

( I don't do trust well. )

Who: Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy
What: Snape invited Draco to his home, and is building an army worthy of Mordor. The topics of discussion are strictly personal.
When: June 25, noon
Where: Around Penzance
Rating: PG
Closed; Incomplete

This meeting was of a different sort than the one Snape had two days ago, though both young men were former students and had known Snape in his political life. The day was not as bright as the past few. It had rained that morning had remained overcast, and the house was empty except for Snape and the house elf, Priska. He returned from the Department of Mysteries for the lunch hour and observed Priska's lunch preparations, thinking in passing of how he had come to adopt the elf after the destruction of Beauxbatons, her former Master leaving a swarm of house elves homeless. There was no self-delusion in his mind, though, that he had taken her in out of charity.

Snape settled down at eleven with a number of articles he had brought with him from the Department, most of them dealing with Dark Magic and alteration of matter, and he was absorbed by the reading, not noticing the minutes fly past. It was a moment after he sat down that noon struck, provoking him into a flurry of motion, repacking the parchment in a briefcase as he looked into the Front Hall from his position expectantly.

( Owl to Theodore Nott, heavily warded )

( Owl to Morag, sent Wednesday morning )

Who: Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott
Where: Regent's Park, London
When: 25 June, night
What: An overdue meeting of sorts, will likely contain melodrama, angst, woe, and possible bitch slapping? Or not.
Rating: TBR; at least PG-13 for language and other intense content?
Status: Closed; in progress

( right follows left, left follows right, and all the time I'm thinking Christ - where's my bed, where's my sleep? )

Who: Nicolas Vaisey and Dexter Cadwallader
What: Flying to let off steam leads to a rather anti-climactic, one-sided fight
When: Wednesday June 25, early evening
Where: A public access quidditch pitch
Rating: PG-13 for language and mild violence
Status: Closed; complete

( I want nothing to do with a criminal whore. . . )