do you remember waterloo?,, open

[MARA ELISE WESTON]

With the exception of the librarian and the Charms professor, the library was empty. Majority of the students were in class, learning whatever it was they were learning. Mara had a free period—a whole hour and fifteen minutes to herself. Everyone knew that, when she was not in her office relaxing or outside on the lawns smoking a cigarette, she was in the library knitting. Her project today was a little pink blanket, which she was knitting for her to-be-born great-niece. The baby was due in nine weeks, which meant that she would need to have the blanket done by then so that she could send it off. Even if she did not finish it by the time the baby was born, she could always send it around Christmastime as a Christmas present. Mara just hoped she could finish it soon, because she wanted to move onto another project, like a knitted shawl (similar to the green one she was wearing) or maybe a little sweater for Gabriel to wear.

Her cat, Gabriel, was probably the size of a toddler and very fat. He was lying lazily in Mara’s lap, asleep and snoring. The woman compared herself to the cat a lot of the time. They both had long hair. They both snored when they slept. And they both had their lazy, fat tendencies. She smiled at the thought and looked at what she had already knitted from behind her glasses, which were thickly framed. So far, the blanket looked nice. She smiled in content and sighed quietly to herself. The library was quiet, too quiet for her liking. She wondered if the librarian would mind a bit of humming. Mara doubted the librarian would know any of the songs she did, but that was okay. Not everyone could be Muggleborn like her, and not everyone could keep up with Muggle ways of life. Clearing her throat quietly, the Charms professor continued to knit, holding the needles up high enough for her to see and so that the blanket would not be lying atop Gabriel. After a few moments, she started to hum a fast-tempo tune. By the sounds of things, it was ‘Waterloo’, by ABBA. The song had been released almost two years ago, and it had made number one on the English music charts of the Muggle world. Even though Mara preferred classical tunes, the up-tempo of these new songs was catchy, and she liked to hum along to them, maybe even sing to them, when she was alone. She was not alone in the library, but she didn’t care. She needed some type of noise, since the librarian had not bothered to engage in conversation with her. She needed some type of motivation to keep her going on that blanket.

Mara looked quite at home. She had kicked her boots off onto the floor and curled up onto the corner of the couch with all of her knitting supplies and her oh-too-friendly Maine Coon cat. Her dark blue ankle-length skirt covered her legs as well as her feet, and her green shawl was draped loosely and almost carelessly over her shoulders. Beneath, she had on a white shirt with large sleeves, which could be seen as she knitted the blanket quickly and skillfully. She paused occasionally, making a fist with both of her hands. Her age was really starting to catch up with her, that was for sure. Her hands could still move quickly while she knitted, but that did not keep them from hurting or causing her to stop and wait for the pain to go away. Her left hand had especially gotten worse, but that was because she used that hand the most, for writing, for eating, for everything. After a few moments, she continued knitting again, still humming the same tune that she had been humming in previous moments. She had caught the librarian gazing across the room at her with a raise brow and look of agitation, but she ignored it. That woman really needed to loosen up some, get out into the world a little bit, learn something new. Surely, she had a fun side, too? Even Mara had a fun side, and she was sixty! Not many older people had a fun side anymore, because they were too mature to enjoy the same things as teenagers. But Mara’s nieces and nephews had introduced her to some of the modern styles and music of the Muggle world, and that was the only reason why she dressed the way she did and knew the things she did. She did not keep up with the Muggle world on her own; she was too busy teaching to do that.

The woman stopped knitting and looked at what she had just created. Something felt off to her. She brought the blanket close to her face and counted in a quiet whisper. “Shit,” she said in a light tone. Gabriel opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking up at her curiously. He could tell when something was wrong, because her body temperature would change, and her mood would alter. He could sense that, smart cat. Mara looked down at Gabriel and petted behind his ears gently, smiling. The cat purred loudly, like a motor in a car, and she undid what she had just knitted. Somewhere, somehow, she had lost count of what she was doing. It was probably all that humming she was doing. It would not surprise her if that had been the reason for her miscount. After figuring out where she had started to mess up, the woman went back to knitting, this time careful to count correctly. To do so, she counted aloud. The librarian cleared her throat, and Mara glanced at her. She swallowed and fell silent, but continued to count inside her head while she knitted. Gabriel continued to look up at her with his yellow eyes, watching her as she knitted the blanket. The cat was probably about as interested in her knitting as a child was with a new toy, and Mara enjoyed it. She could not help but smile when she noticed he was paying attention to her. It was like he wanted to learn how to knit, too. But, for obvious reasons, he could not. The woman continued to knit and count, careful not to mess up again. She finally picked up pace once she got past the place where she had messed up last time. As she picked up the pace, she started to hum the same song, yet again.

[GRAHAM ALBRECHT GOODWIN]

The library was quiet, and properly so. There were no classrooms nearby, where the majority of students were supposedly learning, studying, and applying themselves, which left the hall distinctly absent of the murmurs of conversation, devoid of the scratch of parchment on desks. Of course, a few choice students preferred to stray from classes, loitering in the halls in an appropriately rebellious, devil-may-care fashion, but few made the library a destination of their teenage retreats; Madam Pince made sure of that, deterring snogging fourth years and shooing rowdy Gryffindors. Besides offering shady corners for shady dealings, there was nothing of excitement that brought students to the library in flocks, even during lapses in classes. The average student’s mindset was this: it was educational, therefore, boring, and most students put off their visits until the last moment, leaving the shelves to gather dust before that moment came.

However, that was not to say the library was vacant.

Graham Goodwin was one of the library’s current occupants, but it wasn’t out of disregard for the class he was currently absent from; rather, he had been sent on a mission. Following a thorough conversation on arithmancy with Professor Vector, the teacher had written him a pass to go to the library to sate his lingering curiosity on a subject that had been nagging at him all summer. Normally Graham wasn’t one to miss classes, but they were reviewing topics from last year, and as long as the professor didn’t mind, he was not going to miss an opportunity to spend time perusing the library. He often found himself too preoccupied to go to the library on a whim, considering the amount of homework he had, the writing projects he poured over, and the little bit of socializing he managed to do. Always optimistic that the next year would be different, Graham had hoped for more time to explore the library, and it seemed that maybe his wish had come true.

As he strolled around the library, feeling a bit mischievous to be out of class (though for entirely academic purposes) and pulling down books Vector had recommended to him, Graham took the time to look through some of the more interesting titles that stood out. He was keen on books as Picasso was once keen on cubism. But he wouldn’t compare himself to an acclaimed artist; rather, he was a novice, constantly seeking new inspiration tomes of the past and present. Which explained why, though his search had previously been strictly geared towards the better understanding of arithmancy, he ended up with a pile of books nigh to his eyes, a few about arithmancy as well as some pertaining to odd wizarding pursuits.

He began to cross the room to the next set of shelves when he heard the distinct strains of a distantly familiar song, and felt compelled to retrace his steps to find the source. Upon doing so, Graham smiled, charmed by the sight before him. Over the top of his books, he caught sight of Professor Weston knitting away merrily, only to be hushed by Madam Pince. He watched for a moment, a half smile playing across his lips. Weston’s knack for knitting was well-known to most of the students at Hogwarts, but that wasn’t what made Graham smile. It was just… the hobby made her much more human, as Graham often regarded his teachers as untouchable pillars of wisdom and knowledge. And to see her hands working the delicate beginnings of a bright pink blanket as a frustrated look crossed her face, to see her study her work carefully, undo a part of it, and continue working, made Graham reconsider the idea of teachers being somehow superior. She was human, as was he, and enjoyed little things like knitting, or even smoking (he’d heard). Walking cautiously towards her, the books in his arms bordering on precariously stacked, he approached the professor under whom he’d studied for five years.

“Good day, professor.” Graham greeted in hushed tones, very aware of Madam Pince’s overbearing presence, and offered a private grin, “May I join you?”

He knew Weston would not refuse, being as genial as she was, and yet he didn’t want to blatantly intrude on her temporary sanctuary. Dealing with students during classes, as well as being the head of Hufflepuff, made the professor subject to whines, moans, inquiries, and general slacking, all of which demanded her attention. The hustle and bustle was enough to wear even the most sprightly of professors out, and Graham didn’t doubt that she enjoyed the brief moments of solitude that she made for herself. So it was in a slightly guilty conscience that he hovered by the chair across from hers, his arms begging Graham to put down the hefty stack of books they were straining to hold.


[It's not that good, but I didn't want her to sit here by her lonesome!]

[MARA ELISE WESTON]

Usually the head of house would not disregard the rules put in place by one of her colleagues, but Madam Pince at the tendency to be simply overbearing and impossible. In the same fashion she had been before, Mara continued to hum along to the tune playing inside her head, the song that she had heard two years ago upon its release into the Muggle world. She could hear the singers’ voices singing the words clear in her mind, and it made her want to join along and dance and sing. She knew that would be unorthodox, to just get up in the middle of the library and start dancing and singing for absolutely no reason, so she remained where she was, comfortable and content. She had knitting to do anyway. A baby girl would be born in a few months’ time, and she wanted that baby to have a knitted blanket from her great aunt. It was more for Mara’s satisfaction that she was knitting the blanket; it was the least she could do since she rarely got to see anyone in her family anymore. Working at Hogwarts consumed much of her time throughout the year, and she never felt a great desire to venture home during the winter holiday. She was content staying at Hogwarts. At least the castle was filled with Christmas cheer and there people who actually offered murmured holiday greetings when they woke up. If she went home, there would be no tree and no presents, and there would definitely be no one to greet her when she woke up.

What sounded like an agitated Madam Pince and a prolonged slur of ‘will you please be quiet?’ filled the professor’s ears. The woman slowed in her knitting for a moment and glanced unnoticeably at the woman behind the librarian’s desk. She had stopped humming for a few seconds. When the woman went back to reading her book, the professor started up again. She did not think of herself as disregarding the rules, just having a bit of harmless fun. Of course, the librarian would see her as rude and disruptive, but that was the least of the professor’s concerns. She was a playful woman and enjoyed messing with people’s minds at times. Madam Pince needed to get out of the library on occasion and have some fun. The professor wondered if her colleague had ever experienced a relationship in her life. How sad it would have been if she had never been pursued by a young gentleman in her entire life. But then again, not all women wanted to be pursued. Mara had once been one of those women who expected to be single her entire life, yet she had married. Twice.

The professor’s skilled hands continued to work with the needles, adding bit by bit to the blanket she was making. Her slightly soprano-ish humming continued to drift throughout the library, bothering nothing and no one but the librarian. As far as the professor knew, only she and the librarian were present in the library. However, she was quickly corrected when a dim shadow was cast upon her and a voice filtered quietly into the air. The professor did not look up to see who it was, nor did she stop knitting. She had to finish this part or else she would lose count, again, and have to undo the part she had just redone. Her humming stopped. Her hands moved slightly quicker, and her lips mouthed numbers. Once she finished, she lowered her knitting and looked up at the boy standing before her, his arms full of books. She blinked a few times and tilted slightly to the side. His books had been covering the whole of his face, making it almost impossible to tell who it was. However, after peering around the books, the professor offered and a gentle smile and nodded her head.

“Of course you can,” she said in her usual cheerful tone. Her smile, which had turned into a slight grin now, was still present upon her face. Her cheeks seemed to shine with the height her pleasant smile gave them. She cleared her throat, rather loudly. Madam Pince shot her a nasty glare, but she ignored it. Even Gabriel seemed to be surprised by her actions, because he sat up, placed his front paws on Mara’s chest, and rubbed the top of his head against her chin. She chuckled quietly through her nose and gave a tooth, open-mouthed smile. The cat let out a quiet meow. It was like the cat understood that she was trying to get on the librarian’s nerves. Knowing Gabriel, he probably did; he was a smart feline.

The professor sat her knitting beside her on the couch, careful not to undo any of what she had knitted already, and rubbed Gabriel’s back. The cat was probably half the size of his owner. They seemed to match, the professor and her pet. They were like two peas in a pod. The woman looked back at the Ravenclaw boy as she petted her cat and waited for him to put the books down and be seated. They looked heavy, especially in a large stack like that, and she wondered how he was carrying them all on his own. Mara would have used a light-as-a-feather charm, or maybe a levitating charm to save her the trouble of having to hold them. But that was just her.

[black]here’s a picture of gabriel [image here][/black]