letters from home.

[cecilianott]

Cecilia was under the impression it had been at least a quarter hour, from the moment she'd been snapped back up into consciousness. It hadn't been a pleasant night-- it never was, when her dreams ended in violent shivering, nausea churning her stomach. The soft chiming of a dorm mate's wake-up charm, though, left her with no choice. A few last shakes, and she'd pulled herself as much together as she could, shoving down the covers and casually swinging herself out of her bed into the dim slivery-green light of the dorm. A moment of unsteadiness, and a sharp look at the dark-haired girl who stood staring, as if in need of direction, and Cecilia was moving. Balancing her dagger-sharp critics thoughts of the girls around her, with sweet nothing comments about their hair or complexions kept her from facing a riot every morning. It made her cranky. It gave her a procession of girls to rise from the dungeons with every morning.

The girls who opted to eat with her that morning trickled up the steps before her, as she swept her eyes around their room just one last time before locking it. Straightening her grey sweater over the just-long-enough-to-cover-anything-interesting pleats of her skirt, Cecilia ascended the stairs herself. In a matter of moments, she was smiling, dimpling and gossiping. The little group of them took up position at the piece of table they'd carved out early in their fourth year, two deviating to reappear across from her and the rest dividing however they pleased, closer to other friends. It was half past seven, on the dot. Cecilia insisted on punctuality, unless she was feeling lazy-- her moods tended to be unpredictable, and perfectly uncaring whether you had missed supper the night before.

As it was, she'd only just pushed away a plate of toast and egg out of simple disinterest when the post decided to come screeching through the windows. Nothing new, she rarely did more than pick at her food, eating a bit of this or that if she felt like it. Flicked through her mail, discussed the sinners and saints of Hoggies-- today was like any other. Until a quiet brush of air, and an almost-familiar hoot had her heart skipping a beat. From an empty conversation about a boy, pinning away for a peek under her friends skirt, Cecilia's eyes were pulled to the austere figure settled just inches from her cup of morning tea. Her father's owl, looking as much like him as any feathered animal could look like its master.

In as many minutes as it took her to calm her friends questioning eyes, and read the letter the bird had brought to her, Cecilia formulated a plan of action. Most knew that communication between the Nott's and their offspring was uncommon, so she took the most disarming smile she had, and started spreading it as she read over the letter a second time. Smug, a touch self-satisfied, certainly not a anything to worry about, possibly something to be curious about? That was what she wanted on her face, when the girls around her watched her read, when they watched as she stood, waved at the few who started to get up with her, dismissing herself.

Even, quiet steps brought her down the table where she paused to touch her brother's shoulder, hold up the letter and smile. The sort of smile that didn't touch her eyes, and certainly didn't make her prettier. Cecilia moved on, around the table and with long-legged steps found herself pulling up even with where she'd seen Mercedes take a seat. Hostility hit her then, as she came to a stop behind her little sister, and with all that she cast a glance around at anyone within a three seat radius-- before settling her eyes on Mercy. " . . . excuse me Mercedes, but could you spare a moment-- I know being a porker means you eat very diligently but I happened to receive some particularly pleasant news today. " She spoke with those reserved-for-Mercy tones. Sweet, and gentle like she had not insulted-- dripping with acidic sarcasm when she suddenly tired of that game, the hostile sneer hadn't so much as faltered a moment.

[/justify]

[mercedes carissa nott]

Mercy knew it was going to be bad morning from the moment she was woken an hour early by one of her dorm mates talking in her sleep. It was all down hill after that. She spilled ink all over her long skirt as she was packing her bag, she couldn't get her hair to behave, and she was getting a migraine - something she attributed to the coming full moon. And to top it all off, now her sister wanted to speak to her.

She knew Cecilia was coming long before she reached Mercedes' table. The group of Ravenclaws Mercy usually sat with were quiet and meek, like her. They tended to tense whenever a troublemaker walked by, and that almost always included Slytherins. By the time her sister said a word most of them had slid away from Mercy. One even got up and ran down to the other end of the table without her plate.

"As you've driven off the girl I was speaking with, I suppose I can spare just a moment for you, Cecilia." Mercedes turned around to face her sister, only slightly irritated at being called a porker. She'd had many years experience with her siblings' teasing, and she wasn't going to let a silly little comment like that get to her now. Mercy was determined to have as little communication with them as possible. So she'd listen to what Cecilia had to say, make a few witty remarks, maybe try for a mild insult, and then the Wicked Witch would go away and they wouldn't have to speak until Christmas.

"Now, what's this good news you've got? Have you finally persuaded Father into paying for those beautifying potions you wanted to order?" She smiled sweetly, not even so much as glaring. She heard a girl a couple of seats away gasp, unused to hearing Mercy be anything but kind and polite.