WHO: Lydia Proudfoot and Henry Wadcock
WHAT: Meeting at a game gets messy
WHERE: Magpies Stadium!
WHEN: This past weekend. Or so >>;

( So, who do you know who’s ‘important’ enough in the Magpie circle to pick up your ticket here? )

Halloween was her favorite day of the year, outside of her birthday. And Christmas. And Valentine's Day! It was still pretty up there, considering that there were 365 days in the bloody year! Liz couldn't handle the excitement, whether it be from dressing Katie up in adorable little outfits (plural, because she simply could not pick one obnoxiously cute costume for her daughter) or doing her hair or making Ian dress up and the candy!

Ohhhh, the candy.

It was probably not a good idea to be on a full blown sugar rush when you left for a big party like this, but her fans (she had FANS!) were used to her rapid paced talk! So this should be the norm for everyone, because Liz Bell was a show stopper! The red carpet was sooo much fun, and the Bells were just sofreakinggoodlooking so why would the cameras not flash at them and sigh.

Halloween was the best ever.

"How are my buns?" she asked without looking up, unsure if she had wandered away from her husband or not. There were so many pretty costumes and lights and shiny things...it really wasn't her fault if she'd gotten lost in the crowd.

In all of her years at Hogwarts, in all of her years being a prefect and working on a team full of the best students in Hogwarts, Phoebe Smethwyck had never been as impressed as she was right now as she stared around the Great Hall. Illuminated with candles in all shapes and sizes (and colors, a nifty charm a sixth year had found), the tables surrounding the dance floor were decorated with pumpkins, spiderwebs, and fall leaves, creating a spooky, yet beautiful design. The Ghosts of Hogwarts had volunteered to mingle more than usual (she thanked Nearly Headless Nick profusely, and promised to hold him a belated Death-Day party), captivating the guests with stories---how much truth they held, she couldn't be sure, but they were interesting nonetheless.

The band was a new kind of wizard rock, a bit more political than the Hobgoblins, W.O.A.R. There had been a lot of discussion at the prefect meetings about whether or not they should try and book them, but at the end of the day the naysayers (read: the Slytherins) were outvoted, and the band with the hit song "Do You Believe in M.A.G.I.C" was creating an incredible atmosphere.

So---people looked happy. They were laughing, smiling, and just---happy. Not something Phoebe felt like the wizarding world had been in a long time, and she was glad to be a big part of it.

Now, if only she could find a reason to be happy, herself.

ooc: No wands! Just your ID is needed. Everyone is welcome!

Who: Amery Wilkes, Lydia Proudfoot
What: Sex against a door. Oh, and dinner, but not really.
Where: Amery's flat
When: Monday nightish

( I'm sure I've got no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Wilkes. )

Amery raised his eyebrows. He couldn't believe he had to go out of his way, clear an already busy schedule and postpone a rare social event he wanted to go to in order to pick up a package from Fenrir Greyback. This was ridiculous. There were tens of other people whose duties would actually include this. But it was "easiest" for him, so he went. Honestly, the people he'd need to see about this would get a couple of snapped fingers if he had much say (or action) in the matter.

"What you don't seem to understand, Mr. Greyback, is that I am exceedingly busy, and it would really behoove you to hurry," Amery called after a retreating figure in a bored tone. He'd give it a few minutes before taking necessary action to really speed up the process.

Who: Lydia Proudfoot and Fenrir Greyback
What: They scare the shit out of some kids. .....you think I'm kidding
Where: Fenrir's complex

( You wouldn't want my companion here to get angry )

Who: Lydia and Darren
What: Distractions are needed.
When: Saturday night (John's wedding night)
Rating: At least hard R for a dirty mouth and drug usage

When Darren had left the note on her journal, Lydia had already been planning on making tonight one of those nights where she completely forgot the date and time of day. The fact that Darren was coming over now only meant that she wouldn't have to be as careful as if she were alone. She brought her hand over the back of her neck as she leaned forward toward the mirror, touching up her make-up with a faint sigh.

As per usual, she'd slipped into a pair of long gloves and a corseted dress. Her hair was swept up and her shoulders were bare - definitely suggestive, but it sometimes helped lower the prices of her favorite dealers. The more she could get for ten galleons, the better. She picked up the last of her remaining opal and set it into her purse carefully, glancing toward the door and wondering when Darren would be coming around. She should have told her that she still had some of her last purchase with her - he'd have been at the door in ten seconds flat.

She tapped a gloved hand against the table, content with her appearance, and waited.

WHO: Luci Dolohov & Lydia Proudfoot
WHAT: booty call?
WHERE: Lydia's flat
WHEN: January 17 1978
RATED: er, R?

( Read more... )