◎ c h a r l i e (spinnets) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-05-25 19:58:00

Entry tags:

adrian mattias, andrea johnson, anton chang, charles spinnet, delilah spinnet, group, henry wadcock, howell williams, iwan quigley, magnolia mattias, marissa macfusty, oliver comstock, otto bagman, penelope fawcett, rose knightley, saoirse mullet, therese bonaccord, thomas mccormack

Hogsmeade Quidditch Weekend! Open to All!
Charlie was literally bouncing around like a school kid. How was he so keen on the ways of excited, shriek-filled Hogwarts students? Why, he was surrounded by a gaggle of them! Bouncing, the lot of them, and all donned in red and gold! It was a beautiful sight, really, and it made the slightly overcast day seem bright and sunny and warm. He wanted to hug each and every one of those kids, so he did and it was a good feeling to be recognized as some 'Gryffindor Hero!' A Gryffindor Hero! Legend, some were saying. Some teeny, tiny voice in the back of Charlie's head knew that legend, even hero was pushing it a bit far, but he would happily accept the compliments because they made him feel damn special.

He hadn't been much of a standout in school, popular enough not to lurk around the corridors without anyone noticing you were there, but he was no quidditch captain or head boy. He was just Charlie, and even if his quidditch fame and popularity had skyrocketed these past few years, he was still very much in awe of the fact that people could be impressed by him.

"All right, all right!" he laughed, prying off the clamped fingers of a young third year girl's off his arm. "I'll be back, I promise!"

There was a chorus of moans, but soon the group had spotted yet another player to lay their tremendous excitement and focus on, and Charlie was free. He bounded down the pavement, Gryffindor scarf proudly flapping in the wind behind him, and dropped down onto a wooden bench beside his very Hufflepuff-y girlfriend.

"The kids," he said, waving his hand out toward the crowd before dropping it down onto the back of the bench behind Penelope, "They dig me."

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howl
2013-07-09 03:02 pm UTC (link)

His heart thumped considerably as she nestled closer, as it always did when she was free with her affection with him, but other than the small smile tugging up one corner of his lips, he merely stroked his thumb along her hand and lay his cheek on the top of her head.

"No," Howell said with a little laugh, "although that is true." He looked down at their hands and slowed his thumb as he spoke again. "I was thinking about how long it's been since I visited my family."

That Howell loved and adored his little brother and sister was no secret – although he spoke neither openly or constantly about them, those close to him were well aware of the almost-paternal affection he had for the little Williamses. All the decisions about his career had been made with them in mind, after all… if he hadn't been able to provide for his family by playing Quidditch, Howell never would have pursued it. Then there was his mother, of course, the woman who had struggled to navigate the weird world of which her eldest son was a part, a world she would never understand, but bless her heart, did her best with. The woman who had to raise two young children essentially alone, unsupported until her son managed to catch a lucky break.

He looked down at her, the moonlight slanting through the beams illuminating a face that managed to be both delicate and radiate strength at the same time, and thought how badly he wanted to share them with Saoirse, and Saoirse with them. Pressing a kiss to her hair, he said, "I was thinking that, when the season is over, perhaps you would like to come with me to meet them."

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mullets
2013-07-09 06:23 pm UTC (link)

She, too, slowed her ambling fingers, then stopped moving them all together upon sensing a shift in the mood. Saoirse couldn't say she was expecting the topic he settled on, as Howell rarely spoke of his family unprompted, but her surprise concerning it was not discomforting. Instead it settled her, for she always enjoyed when he spoke of his siblings and mother, and looked forward to his stories; even the smallest of accounts warmed her heart with how passionately and lovingly he spoke of them.

Did he feel guilty over the date of his last visit? Surely, she knew, they would understand, as the last few months had not been easily managed, so he shouldn't feel...

Saoirse blinked blankly. That had not been... it was not out of disbelief, but a need to verify what she thought she had heard that moved her to quickly pick her head from his shoulder to take in Howell's face fully. As she searched it intensely, and his words began to sit, she felt her eyes began to water minimally, but that was by no means an indicator of the wave to come. When it was clear that he truly meant to share this important aspect of his life with her, Saoirse felt an overwhelming wave of emotion flood her so completely that before she could realize it was happening, she burst into tears.

She supposed they could be blamed on exhaustion, or that encompassing notion she frequently experienced when she with him, but Saoirse knew, truly, she would be lying to herself if she believed that. Her sudden and fierce tears were rooted in how deeply touched his invitation made her feel, that was obvious. Howell's family was very important to him (how many times had she quieted his feverish cries over his brother and sister's futures? Promised him that his mother was capable of providing for them without him?) and the thought that she worthy for them, when she had so little to offer in return...

But thoughts of her own family could not be permitted, now. Her tears were of the happy kind, not sad, and for once she wanted to experience what that felt like. Still horrible, but at least a bit more emotional intimate, which she always tried to be with Howell. Saoirse kept her hand locked with his, though now her clutch was significantly tighter, as she dropped her head to her chest.

"I would--- like that---" she mustered between heaves, nodding fervidly. "--- Very much."

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howl
2013-07-14 02:06 am UTC (link)

He was not entirely sure what he expected Saoirse to do or say, but that uncertainty had evidently ruled out tears, if the sour dive his heart took was any indication. Until she spoke.

Howell blinked rapidly for a moment, to ensure he had not hallucinated, before a brilliant smile lit up his face. "You would? Truly?"

Perhaps such a feeling was unusual in a person, to be so excited to introduce their partner to their family as to be unable to contain it, but Howell was not a usual sort of person. That heart of his that had been feeling sickly mere moments ago was now swelling rapidly inside his chest.

There was still the matter of the tears streaming down her cheeks, and he didn't waste a moment in attending to them as he nudged her chin up with one hand to look at him. Howell cupped her face and wiped at one tear with his thumb. "But then why are you crying?"

His little sister would simply fawn over her, he thought. Seeing them so rarely, she idolised any woman over the age of 16, and would be unable to restrain herself if the woman in question was Howell's girlfriend. Benjy would undoubtedly try to steal her away, and his mother, well—Howell's heart swelled again, briefly causing him to wonder at his chest's capacity to hold both it and his lungs in the same space.

"You don't have to be nervous about meeting them," he whispered, still half-smiling. "I know they would love you just as much as I do."

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mullets
2013-07-19 12:58 am UTC (link)

Howell's simple touch simmered her uncontrollable heaving and excessive nodding somewhat, though he hadn't needed to touch her face to quiet her if he had been planning on saying what he just uttered the whole time.

Her eyes batted long, wide blinks in his gentle hold, and her face felt hot in spite the trickling streams of water down her cheeks. That was no matter, though, none of that mattered now, not this ridiculous quidditch match, her previous thoughts of wanting him to spend less time at her house, the fact that she was, once again, crying her eyes out in front of him. None of that was relevant anymore. Everything had changed, it was all different now, she couldn't help but conclude as the most easing releases of relief filled her to the brim. Shifting in the grass, Saoirse moved to rest on her tired knees and kneel before him.

It would not be enough to simply explain her tears were from happiness, her sniffling from a release of pure joy, the word didn't even begin to express the feelings roaring through her every fiber at this moment. It wasn't enough, it didn't encompass... all of the sudden, Saoirse emitted the smallest, most delicate of laughs. He didn't already know? She had always felt he much more aware of things like this than her.

The hand that was not currently locked within his rose to smoothly prickle against his jawline, and she would have kept it there if not for her deep need for something to hold on tight to during her next few words. Both his hands now in hers, Saoirse rested them in her lap.

"Because I'm in love with you," she said earnestly, the tinniest hint of shyness present in her voice. Should she go on to explain how much she knew this would mean to him? No, no, she was barely keeping herself together at the indirect mention of how much she meant to him. "I want to meet your family." Saoirse's head tilted slightly as she spoke, a timid smile peaking through her tired, tear-stained face.

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howl
2013-08-20 04:19 am UTC (link)

There are people, perhaps, who handle such situations elegantly, with grace. The depths of their feelings makes them poignant, their words the right combination of all-knowing and reverence. Howell was not one such person. The knowledge that this witch could love him, truly so, even one-tenth of what he felt for her, made him clumsy with relief and love and thankfulness.

He watched her with an expression of awe, edged with polite confusion. Surely he had not heard her correctly. Had she said what he thought—? Had he said what he—?

"Sorry?" Howell croaked. "You—you love me?"

The laughter came then, though it was disbelieving and carried a slight edge to it. Here they were, just two kids, really, hiding under the stadium of their old school's pitch. What were they even doing? Why did he care? What did anything matter, in all honesty, except this?

Her hands still clinging to his, he brought them up where they hovered, just a whisper away from her chin. "You love me," he whispered again, eyes fixed on her lips, as if looking at the source from where the words had been spoken from would make it seem more real. Howell gripped Saoirse's fingers tightly with his own as he looked her in the tear-brimming eye. His own might have had an unearthly sheen to them as well. "I love you."

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mullets
2013-08-21 03:02 am UTC (link)

Saoirse had not realized she'd been holding her breath until she exhaled, anxious relief finally washing over her. Hesitation, dubiety-- what if all those nights she had spent thinking about him, curled up against him, struggled to properly convey to him just how much he truly meant to her, had been wrong? Misunderstood, misread... this swamped thing he was so very good at evoking from her had been difficult to understand because she had never felt it before, and couldn't put a name to it, but now... it didn't feel so overwhelming.

Grappling with how to set her mouth, feeling it pull up with happiness and pull down with the release of all this built-up tension, Saoirse felt her head begin to nod. How else could she respond? Her emotions felt caught in her throat, a fresh coat of exhilarated sweat had broken out onto her skin, and all she could think about, focus on, replay in her head, was his words. And his face, his beautiful face that she loved to watch and see the realist of emotions appear upon it. A fresh waves of tears budded as she attempted to collect all her thoughts into a coherent response.

Tears began to stream down her face again as she nodded, nodded feverishly while swallowing thickly. Wanting desperately to keep holding his hands, but knowing how much more she truly wished to touch his face, Saoirse loosed one hand to do so.

"I've never said that to anyone before," she rushed, clutching the side of Howell's face tightly. "I've never felt the way I feel for you about anyone else. Howell---" She wanted nothing more than to press up against him, embrace his warmth that she had become so accustomed. "I feel---" Saoirse continued to breath deeply, completely forgetting where they were, what time it was, how truly exhausted she had been. "You make me feel--"

She could not explain it, it could not be put into words. Or, maybe it could, but she by no means had the capacity to do it justice. But she didn't--- know. Saoirse fumbled for what to say, what to do, simply reaffirming her clutch on him, pressing her palms into his face, letting her fingers push though what bits of his hair they could reach.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," she began to murmur on repeat, pushing closer still to properly begin kissing his face. His jaw, his cheeks, his brow, his eyelashes, his lips--- oh, his lips.

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