w (heir) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-08-07 03:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !harry potter, *log, james potter, neville longbottom |
log, Hogwarts: open to Hogwarts students!
Who: Hogwarts students [open!]
What: party for the Savior of the Wizarding World and a bloke named Neville
Where: Prefects' bath
When: sunset, nowish
Warnings/Rating: TBD
The mermaid scaled in diamonds of glass was surprised to see James Potter and Sirius Black back so soon. Boys didn't bathe that often, in her experience as a mermaid-on-the-wall. They were rather disgusting creatures, as far as humans went. But here they were, returned to the fifth floor, fourth door to the left of Boris the Bewildered. The password had been given. But, of course, they were still very much boys. She wondered what they were on about, when they didn't begin to fill the bath with rosy scents or rainbowing bubbles. Boys. Tsk. They didn't do much in the way of preparation or decoration. To the uninitiated, the bath was quite a sight to see. Breathtaking even, pun incredibly intended. The shelled room opened wide, one side cubed into stalls, the other the flat line of a pasture, housing the large, nearly swimming pool-sized bathtub. It was a gorgeous feature, that tub, speaking to the relative prestige allotted to Head Boys, Head Girls, Prefects, and Quidditch Captains alike. The tub itself was inset, sunk beneath the high-polished tongues of tiles, and pinioned there, as a luna moth to a board, by a good hundred taps—all wrought of gold that glittered under tinny light and each denoted as different with inlaid jewels atop their handles. If one were to turn them all, not only would one be quickly overwhelmed by warring scents—camomile battling mint, the blood of pine spilling into rosemary, bath oil spearing the fragrance of cinnamon with a vicious grin. Tucked neatly against the wall, beneath the mermaid herself, was an arsenal of bathing supplies: fluffy white towels, bars of soap in every color, bath salts, bath powder, shampoos, sprays, tinctures—anything one might need, whilst enjoying the leisure of a bath. And while the boys hadn't come well-prepared, the tub filled remarkably fast for a thing of its size, and it was ready in no time. They'd lugged, under cover of invisibility cloak of course (and you try looking like you've got nothing in your arms, when you, in fact, do; it's very difficult), liters of Firewhiskey, various brandies, and other alcohols to the room, all featherweighted, but quite bulky, courtesy of the Hog's Head. It was stowed as a collection near the bathing goods, a small spread of twinkling goblets nicked from the Kitchens offering themselves just there. James managed to dim the candles to a better dimness as Sirius set up whatever nonsense it was he intended to get music out of. It was a wireless wizarding radio, but he was going off on a mumbling tangent about piracy and whatnot, so James blocked him out. It was entirely likely that this whole thing was a bad idea, with quite a bit of potential to be a flop, but the Marauders had never shied away from the likes of such before. Certainly, they lacked their reputation—the one they'd had in their own time, which brought many in, even if it ought not—and, only a handful of randomly generationally stratified youth would attend, but so be it. It would be fun all the same, even if it was just paddling about in a world of bubbles that tickled your nose. James never did get anxious about these things. He had far too much confidence in his and his mates' likability. If he was worried about his son, or Evans, or Sirius dealing with his jealousy in all of it, he kept it clear of his face, upon which a decidedly smug expression currently resided, as boozy as it was. "Alright, Black?" James grinned at his mate from across the tub, haloed beneath the mermaid who cooed at him silently from her glass rock (boys were disgusting, but she preferred them). He was in his swimming costume, a simple pair of trunks in Gryffindor red, glasses charmed to repel water, a good three or so gobletfuls of Firewhiskey in, when the sun, somewhere outside, unseen, began to dip itself below the jagged horizon painted in the black-green of the Forbidden Forest. |