make me stutter, stutter

[Roxanne Reid]

Sometimes Roxanne hated the Slytherin common room purely based on appearance. She'd seen most of the other common rooms when she'd visited various males'' dormitories and the Slytherin common room was, hands down, the most depressing. Oh sure, it was extravagant and gave the impression of wealth and arrogance, which was befitting to the majority of the students in the House, but it was cold and dark and entirely too green for her liking, which certainly wasn't her favourite colour anyway. Quite frankly, she was tired of seeing it all the damn time. She understood "house pride" or whatever, but she felt her vision would turn permanently green by the time she graduated. It was why she'd specifically looked for a spell to change the hangings around her bed to a more suitable colour - a royal blue that was equal parts classy and pretty. She wouldn't have made such an effort if she wasn't genuinely annoyed with the dormitory. And now, sitting on one of the leather couches in front of the fireplace (even the couches were uncomfortable and cold; the ones in Hufflepuff were much more inviting and squishy, it felt like you were sinking into a cloud), Roxanne found the irritation with her own common room creep up on her all over again. She'd been sitting here all day, finishing up some of her homework since Clementine had been badgering her about it for the past few days. It had taken her fifteen minutes to write each essay (it had taken her another fifteen to mess each one up to insure she barely scraped by with a passing grade, because if she didn't then she'd get a perfect score and who wanted that?).

Now that she no longer had homework to distract her, Roxanne quickly found herself becoming bored. Sighing loudly, she brushed her hair back and gathered her parchment together neatly, stacking them up and placing each assignment in its respective text book. Once she'd put everything away, she lounged back on the couch and frowned at the glowing embers, tapping her fingers against her thighs and then looking down at the digits with a slight frown, idly wrapping one hand around the other. She'd always disliked her hands; her fingers were strong, but short and fat, as opposed to most girls' fingers, which were slim and dainty. While they helped when it came to gripping a broomstick or catching rogue bludgers, they didn't give off any sort of femininity. Not that Roxanne was ever bothered about being too feminine since she generally rolled her eyes at girls who exclaimed about getting dirt on their clothes, or breaking a nail, or something equally girly. Still. She wouldn't mind having slightly more girly hands.

Realising she'd spent the better part of the last ten minutes thinking about her fingers, of all things, Roxanne rolled her eyes and stood up. She knew Clementine was at practice and wouldn't be done for another hour yet, but watching her zoom around on a broomstick sounded a lot more productive and entertaining then sitting in this cold, dank common room and possibly be propositioned by an equally bored male, especially since Roxanne's standards dropped just the slightest bit when she had nothing better to do. She then pulled on her jacket over her DRESS, taking a moment to appreciate the irony in the fact that it was green when moments before she was mentally expressing her distaste for the colour. Funny how life worked that way sometimes, wasn't it? She dropped her backpack in the dormitory, checked her reflection to make sure her hair was in place, and then left common room without once glancing behind her. She unconsciously shivered as she walked through the dungeons; even the location of the common room was ridiculous. Didn't they realise that about half of the Slytherin population were cowards and would thus be intimidated by such a location? Not to say that she was one of them. Because she wasn't afraid. She simply found it incredibly dark and cold and did she mentioned depressing?

It was a relief to be out in the sunshine and she paused for a few moments, tilting her head upwards to absorb what little sunshine was offered - it was still the end of February, after all, and even though today was a surprisingly sunny day, it was still rather cold, and she was glad she'd opted for stockings today. Smirking to herself, Roxanne followed the sounds of the Gryffindor team shouting at each other for practice and found herself on the pitch soon enough. With her hands on her hips, Roxanne studied the team, squinting since they were pretty high up. She could just recognise Clementine's dark tresses as she zoomed towards the goal post while the bloke who constantly asked her out trailed after her, trying to knock the Quaffle out of her hands. That annoying Cross and Bell were beating the bludger back and forth, although the latter occasionally glanced at the others and gave an order or two over her shoulder. Deciding sticking around wouldn't be that bad at all, the redhead made her way to the stands and was slightly surprised to find another onlooker - this one with a camera.

Briefly, she wondered if the Gryffindor team was aware that someone was taking pictures of them.

Smirking to herself because now not only did have a show, but company as well, Roxanne made her way up the stands towards the messy-haired, bespectacled blond and slid into a seat next to him, close enough that her knee nudged his. "Hi," she greeted, her smile flirty, but engaging. "Do I need to sic the Gryffindor team on you for being a spy, or are you just taking pictures for recreational purposes?"

[/color] she asked, her tone teasing and her expression deceptively light and playful.

{ooc: idek i hope this works for you :3}

``jayden flynn

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[Jayden Flynn]

Jayden loved his job at the Hogwarts Herald; honestly, when he’d heard about the post, he’d nearly tripped over Luke where they were sitting on the ground flicking balls of paper at each other in his haste to go apply for it. He’d had to put together a portfolio of his previous work and a reason why he wanted the post and why he’d be good at it, and he didn’t think he’d ever written a piece of work faster before in his life. See, Jayden had discovered the camera when he was around nine. His father had gotten one for the family and had started taking photographs since then, at family events, at dinner, portraits of each of them to hang around the house that were taken by him and not that professional photographer that had taken the one they currently had in the center of the living room. At some point or another, Jayden had gotten hold of the apparatus and had started clicking away, taking pictures of still-life and of people, catching them unawares, candid images, catching the sunlight reflecting on the lens until pretty colors bloomed across the image. It was like art that he could create with the right angle, the right subject, and a flick of his finger. He’d been given his own camera for his eleventh birthday, the year he’d gone to Hogwarts, to take pictures of everything and show them to his family when he came home for the holidays.

He’d been friends with some boy whose name he couldn’t quite remember, a few years older, when he was that young, who’d offered to bewitch his camera so he could take moving pictures as well. The thought had been hypnotizing, and once he discovered he could capture a moment rather than a snapshot, he’d gone a little camera-crazy through his second year. Anyway, Jayden liked taking pictures. So he’d applied, and after a couple of days waiting, he’d been told by owl that he got the job as photographer for the Herald, and he’d be working under Benjamin Burke, who was the editor for the photographers, and other people he had to talk to, to see what the Herald needed for content. Photographs to accompany articles and the like. It was like an escape of sorts for him, going around school and taking pictures of everybody and everything. He walked around with his camera slung around his neck, lifting it up to his eyes—or perhaps, eye glasses—and snapping the button here and there, taking thousands of pictures of which he’d discard more than half of, to get the perfect ones. The perfect moment, the perfect smile or gint of an eye.

The job lately had been to photograph all the sports teams at school for a four-page display where they’d feature the latest matches and some interviews with the captains, he thought, he couldn’t quite remember. But he had to photograph the teams. He’d gone to the Hufflepuff Quidditch practice which Gideon had tipped him about a couple of days ago and took really good pictures; it’d been sunny out and the Hufflepuff yellow had been bright and happy against the blue sky. He’d done the Slytherin Quidditch team then, and then attempted to photograph Gryffindor before the captain had yelled at him about this being an explicitly private practice and something about Ravenclaw being invincible lately and to get out—she might’ve added a please, he couldn’t quite remember because he’d run off—Maylene Bell kind of terrified him. So he’d come back today, after having asked for her specific permission, and was capturing all of the members of the team during practice. He’d got some really good pictures of Gracie, and one he was really proud of that consisted of Julien Cross grabbing onto the edge of the hoop and flying in a swing across it before ending with a high five to a boy he didn’t know. Sullivan, he thought he was called. Anyway, he was just concentrating on a dive Gracie was doing towards the snitch when a soft pressure against his knee made him jerk up, jumping on the benches and leaning back immediately, staring at the girl that at some point had appeared next to him.

“Hello,” he blurted out, staring a little, still startled, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he took her in. Her hair was reddish, kind of the same color as his, maybe blonder, and she had on a green dress and big eyes and big lips and it took her a second longer than usual to come up with her name. Roxanne Reid. She was in his year, in Slytherin, and he’d maybe exchanged… two words with her in his entire school life? Jayden tended to shy away from loud, confident and sexy people. And she was… all of those things. Her hair was so big and her eyelashes were so distracting and he felt like she was either going to hit him or kiss him at all times—to any boy, now that he thought about it—and it scared the bajeezus out of him. Forcing himself to clear his throat and relax, returning back to his original position not leaning back away from her, he rubbed at his ear a little, which was a dark red, and licked his lips, turning his camera over in his hands. “It’s for the school newspaper,

[/color]” he told her as normally as he could, willing his voice not to waver, or crack or something equally embarrassing. “I’ve got permission from the captain.[/color]” He glanced over at her and looked back to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. “Are you…supposed to be here?[/color]”
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[Roxanne Reid]

Ah, he was one of those shy, awkward types. Roxanne should have figured, with his glasses, messy hair, gangly limbs and camera. Although she wasn't really the type to judge a book by it's cover, well...the cover sort of spoke for itself in this case, and she doubted the contents would give off a different impression. That was fine. Even better, actually. Roxy was kind of tired of having to deal with jerk the likes of Cross and Black. No, she'd much rather enjoy the company of someone who'd blush with a few, well-placed words and feather-light touches. They were so easy to fluster, so willing to shower you attention when you gave them just a little bit of time. Their hearts were fragile; you could crush them in your fist without much effort. She knew, because she'd done it before, several times. And then they ended up either being incredibly bitter, doing the same to other girls so that it became a vicious cycle of heartbreak because each person, in the end, only looked out for him or herself and wanted to hurt another before they could hurt them the same way someone in their past had -- or they would up finding the right person to fix them, to mend their hearts, which had previously been mangled seemingly beyond repair. In the latter case, Roxanne figured she'd done them a favour. They might have never met the loves of their lives if it weren't for her actions. And in the former case...well. Love was overrated, and it served you right if you were a silly, naive, hopeless romantic. Now, whether this boy was someone whom she would continue to pursue remained to be seen. She didn't bother with boring people, and if he failed to spark her interest, then she would simply leave him be.

Listening to him speak, Roxanne pursed her lips, feigning interest. She knew of that sorry excuse for a newspaper, found that it tried entirely too hard and was completely unprofessional. The stories weren't very interesting, the writers were average at best, and the photography? Well, it wasn't amazing. Probably, she was being a little snooty, but ah well. She didn't exactly have friends in the paper that she knew of, so she didn't really feel bad about mentally jabbing at it. Plus, the person who had run it before was Lucius Malfoy, and she wasn't his biggest fan. Actually, she wasn't a fan of most purebloods, especially Slytherin ones. Mostly since they had a tendency to look down their overly high nose at her and call her a mudblood. But also because they tended to walk around with a giant pole up their arse and Roxanne liked to keep her dealings with people like them to a bare minimum unless she was feeling bored and wanted to be a bitch to someone, or try to make one of them uncomfortable by being overly forward with them. She'd learned quickly that all the latter got her was rejection and a few meaningfully hurtful words that briefly shattered her self esteem until she remembered that they were the ones who were beneath her and she continued on her merry way.

"Well, I haven't got permission from the captain," she hummed, lightly scraping her nails against his thigh, just to get a reaction out of him. "But my really good friend is on the team, so I often watch them. It's not like I'm on the Slytherin team, and I cheer them on all the time, when they're not playing against Slytherin, so."

[/color] She shrugged her slim shoulders and then smiled at him, flipping her hair behind her. She was being quite blatantly flirtatious, more so than she usually would, but she knew his type can sometimes by quite oblivious and she wanted it to be completely obvious to him, what she was doing, that is. She bit her lip and shifted a little further from him, since she didn't want to scare him off. Coming on too strongly would only cause him to recoil and might render him completely speechless, which would get very old, very soon. "I'm Roxanne Reid, by the way,"[/color] she added, holding out her hand, pale and soft and perfectly manicured with polished black nails. "And you are...?"[/color] She vaguely remembered his face (or his hair, more specifically, since it was kind of too big and fluffy to go unnoticed) from some classes they shared together, but for the life of her she couldn't remember his name or his house.


ooc: ugh this is short forgive me.
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