A Sorrowful Plot (Open)

[annabelleadams]

The castle had grown to be a bore the past few days and it was this fact that inspired Annabelle to venture into Hogsmeade for the day. She had checked out the newest arrivals in Gladrags but made no purchases. A clothing store with "rags" in its name did not appeal to her. Her stop there was merely to pass the time. From there she had continued on to Scrivenshaft's and bought one new quill merely for the purposes of not leaving her trip empty handed. Though she had intended to go to The Three Broomsticks to rejuvenate herself for a little, upon glimpsing the crowded interior through the front window she simply continued past it. That was the reason she now found herself standing in front of the Shrieking Shack.

She had never previously found any reason to come to this place, nor did she truly have a reason at the present. However, she was there, so she decided to see what interested people about it. As she gazed up at the old, supposedly haunted building, she wondered what it would be like to live there. Her mind worked to polish up the abandoned shack until it looked like a logical living place. After all the tales she had uncovered about it, however, she would never dare enter, regardless of how welcoming she could imagine it to look. Annabelle knew it was not a welcoming place. Gazing at this hilltop estate brought her to the common thought as of recently as to where she would live during the summer months. All of her searches thus far had proved futile. The idea of faking her parents' deaths was seeping more and more into the forefront of her mind. Perhaps if the world thought her parents had died tragically, she could summer with a friend. Not a close friend - far too risky. Someone she knew and could tolerate would be best. Living with a friend could prove disastrous. If a classmate simply provided her with a living space, however, the two could tend mostly to their own devices and she would not have to worry.

Annabelle's parents already were dead to her. Briefly, she wondered what they would think when she did not come home for the summer. Instantly she chided herself for her foolishness. They would scarcely notice, nor would it be a surprise. It had always been quite clear that they did not want a witch as part of their perfect little family. If they thought anything of it at all, they may assume she was spending the summer with her half-brother Collin again. The arrangement she had made with him had worked out nicely, but it was only temporary. Brother and sister were not accurate terms to describe the two and Annabelle would not intrude upon Collin and his wife again. She had been in a dire situation then, but she has had ample time now to prepare a living quarters for herself. Yet she still had none and it was extremely frustrating to her. Now she glared up at the Shrieking Shack. It provided a home for no one, while no one provided a home for her.

Suddenly angry, Annabelle began to plot her tale. She would pretend she stopped at the Post Office during her trip. There she received a letter that informed her of how her parents met their tragic end. How would they die? Something glorious, of course, but something unimportant to explain a lack of appearance in any headlines. Perhaps she could write something to the Daily Prophet about it, to make it seem more real. What kind of death was worthy of a pure-blood? Could she use the Shadow Wars? Any death as a result of the war would have a sparse amount of details. It was perfect - what was more heroic than fighting for a cause? Of course, it would never be specified which side her parents were fighting for. Nor would it truly ever be said that was what they had died doing. Everything would just be implied.

A wicked smile crept into Annabelle's features as her plan fell into place. She would reap the benefits of her parents' untimely demise and she was determined that it would solve her summer living situation. Surely someone in this school would have the heart to take pity upon the poor young girl who has just tragically lost both her parents. Of course, the fact that she was of age could present a problem but she was confident she could still worm her way into the hearts of her peers. Taking a calming breath, she erased the smile from her lips. If she was to return with the news of her parents' deaths, she would need to be very somber. Annabelle pulled out her mirror and sighed. Her story would have to look as truthful as possible. Carefully, she reached up and began to gently poke at her eye. It was not hard enough to damage it - just enough to cause it to water. Once that was completed, she set to work on the other eye. The mirror showed the tears and mascara running down her face. Normally she would never be seen in such a way, but drastic times called for drastic measures. Naturally, she would be positively distraught about her loss.

Annabelle replaced the mirror and searched her handbag for a handkerchief. Upon finding a suitable one, she dabbed at the ends of the trails left by her forced tears. With her handkerchief now properly stained, she was ready to begin her journey back to the castle. She dropped her facade for a moment to look up at the Shrieking Shack for a final time. Her expression was now almost gloating. Now that her story was in place, she would be victorious. Closing her eyes and letting go of her composure, she brought up every feeling of sadness she could recall feeling throughout her life. It hit her harder than she expected. Feeling the sudden sadness, she hurriedly turned away from the building, biting her lower lip lightly. The Slytherin truly did look pained. Were she not truly feeling sorrowful at the moment, she would have been very pleased with herself.

[Alessandro Darko]

Having needed the great therapy of fresh air and some time away from the castle, Alessandro had decided to journey into Hogsmeade to purchase some sweets from Honeydukes. Shucking his school uniform, he pulled on a navy blue, long sleeved, v-neck shirt and some dark washed denim, giving him a rather brooding look with such uniform dark hues. Contrasting the dark blues, he popped on some light brown boots, and threw on a similarly colored jacket to ward off the cold, as it was late February. Casting a dreary look in the mirror, he ran a hand back through his dark locks, cascading them back, away from his face. He really did look a bit more approachable with his face opened up like that. Perhaps he would start wearing his hair like that? Smirking, he shook his head lightly and again the locks fell about his face. He then swept them over to the side and turned away from the mirror, , ready to leave the castle.

The walk down from Ravenclaw tower wasn't as long as he had expected it to be. His mind was constantly working over the things that had just happened. Keaira obviously wasn't going to come back to him any time soon, he could feel it. He had no doubt in his mind that if she did still feel the same, she would have come to him sooner than later, and grant him the forgiveness that he so desired. He absentmindedly fumbled for his ever-present Italian horn that his father had given him when he was a child, and almost choked on his breath when his fingers found vacant space where the charm once had been.

"You know Alessandro, sometimes when we feel like we don't need something or someone, it really is when we need them the most. And when you decided you want this back you will know where to find it. Just like you'll always be able to find me if you need me."

Her words flooded his memory as he recalled the events of the day Keaira had tried to help him recover his memories in the Room of Requirement. He had gotten upset as he relived a moment that he had long ago with his parents in Colorado, and had torn the necklace from his neck, and threw it with all his might out into the field. Keaira had summoned it, repaired it and placed it around her own neck.

Feeling at loss yet again, he trudged through the streets of Hogsmeade headed for Honedukes. Perhaps some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans would lighten his spirits? He entered the shop and selected his sweets, along with a few extra items he had not planned on purchasing, and then exited the store, the bell above him tinkling softly. As he traversed the streets slowly, he noted a girl that he had seen before at school. She was a Slytherin girl, as he recalled, and he rolled his eyes at the thought of Slytherin Girls. They always brought him trouble. Or did he think that because of just the one? His mind was jerked elsewhere as he entered Scrivenshafts to purchase some new quills and parchment.

After he was done at Scrivenshafts, he repressed the desire to go into the newly improved Gladrags to peruse the new Quidditch Supplies. He had heard that Quality Quidditch Supplies was going out of business, and now Gladrags was the place to go for your Quidditch needs. Lifting his head away from the shop, he continued his trek through Hogsmeade back toward the castle. On his way, he noticed the Slytherin girl he had noticed earlier in Hogsmeade was now standing a short distance away from the Shrieking Shack, gazing up at it and looking quite distraught.

Having his curiosity piqued, and hearing the mantra in his head: "Misery loves company", he trudged toward her through the snow drifts, his Ravenclaw scarf bouncing as he walked.

Not feeling the slightest bit shy, which was unusual for him, he approached the girl from the side, calling over to her. He recognized her from a couple classes they had together. From what he knew, she was a bit smug at times, and a bit condescending, but then again, so was Alessandro.

"Annabelle...is it?" He called gently as he closed distance between them. "Is everything alright? I was on my way back to the castle...and I noticed you looked...well, you looked like you could use some Draught of Peace, to say the least..." he said with a slight comical edge on the end of his sentence, twirking up the corner of his mouth into a smile while his face still held a visage of concern.

[annabelleadams]

Annabelle had just begun to regain a better control over her sorrow when a voice suddenly appeared at her side. Startled, for - in her preparations - she had not noticed anyone approach, Annabelle rapidly whirled around to face the approaching person. It took her a minute to clearly make out the boy's concerned face through her still slightly watering eyes. She had not expected to encounter anyone so soon. However, she reasoned it was a good thing. Her plan needed someone she did not know well. The boy was not in her house. Of that, she was certain. His blue clothing could be indicative of Ravenclaw, but one could not depend on such a thing. Regardless, the two were unfamiliar, though she did recognize him faintly, most likely from classes. Suddenly it occurred to her that had she not stumbled upon this boy, her plan could have been much more difficult. Naturally, she would return straight to her common room, and Paris would have been the most likely one to find her.

As the boy before her uttered her name, she began to try to recall his own. Carefully scrutinizing his face, she tried to place where she usually saw him. They certainly knew each other from classes. After a moment, Annabelle could place him as one of the students always in the front row. He was a Ravenclaw, of course. Today he was out of his uniform, so perhaps that was why it took her longer to recognize him. All that remained now was a name. However, he had finished speaking and it would be foolish to stand there trying to recall a name. "Oh," she gasped. "I'm sorry. I hate for anyone to see me like this." Annabelle gently dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. "I...I've just-oh, I couldn't burden you with my troubles when we hardly know one another. That would be so rude of me." She clenched all the muscles in her body tightly so she began to shake. "I-I'm simply s-so dis-distraught r-right n-now th-though," she continued, beginning to work the sounds of sobbing into her voice.

Without warning, she dropped to her knees, her body heaving violently with her pantomimed sobs. Usually, Annabelle would never reduce herself to being on the filthy ground but, unfortunately, her supposed circumstance seemed to call for such. Also, doing uncharacteristic things made very good dramatic effect. As she sat on the ground sobbing, she continued her search for the boy's name. He was a Ravenclaw. Possibly a fifth year? She was certain he was not in her own year and fairly sure he was not older. The two had shared classes for quite some time. Or...was there a gap? Suddenly, a glimmer of his identity reached her. Darko. Yes, that was certainly it. Now his first name was...Alessandro. Of course. Naturally, she was quite pleased with herself, but fought hard to keep it out of her present state. With his name now acquired, she looked up at him through her tears.

"Alessandro, yes?" she checked. "Would you mind terribly if I imposed my sorrow on you? You see, I've just received...news. It's-" Annabelle broke off, appearing choked up. "It's beyond words. Just awful, beyond words." She softly blew her nose into the handkerchief. "I hate to put you in such a position and I understand if you refuse. However...I just need to talk to someone." She paused, staring up at him. "You just seem like the perfect person right now," she whispered. It was true. Already he had come to her with concern and the two were not familiar past knowing names. Such a person to have the sympathy of and for him to have the knowledge of her tragedy was truly perfect. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine, a result of the cold of the snow she was kneeling in. Not altogether pleasant, but it also made a nice effect. She lowered her head from his gaze, forcing herself into a moment of complete vulnerability. As softly as she could while still being certain she could be heard, she mumbled, "I'm sorry."

[Alessandro Darko]

(ooc: I must say that I am TRULY sorry for having neglected this thread. I JUST remembered, none of the threads I'm in now are bookmarked. I've remedied this )

Alessandro looked on at the Slytherin 6th year in shock. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would ever come across a Slytherin in a vulnerable moment, such as the one Annabelle Adams was having right at that very moment. Alessandro knew that not every Slytherin fit the stereotype. Keaira O'Connell was a perfect example, however, he was sure there was a reason all Slytherin's were chosen for that house. Had he not begged against it, the Sorting Hat would have cast him in the same house, but he must have had some other quality going for him to assign him to Ravenclaw. Not really accustomed to seeing people in a broken down state, bursting into hysterics, Alessandro offered his hand out to Annabelle, and if she took it, he would help her up back into a standing stance.

Her pleas for an ear to cry to, a shoulder to lean on were not fallen on deaf ears. Alessandro was in such a state of bewilderment, that he had no objections to hearing the cause for throwing her into such a fit. He was actually very curious and intrigued to see what was so devastating. "By all means, Annabelle, please do tell me what's wrong. Whats got you upset?" He asked with genuine concern. The poor girl looked so distraught, he hoped nobody had died or anything.

It was amazing how quickly one could forget their own problems at the sight of someone else in distress. How interesting it was that people seemed to be more inclined to focus on other people's problems rather than their own, as if it would somehow save them the trouble of dealing with their own toils for the time being. He didn't have anything specifically vexing to attend to, but he did have the task of putting the pieces of his broken life back together, as he was now whole, and in control. Gazing up at the shrieking shack, he shivered slightly, not knowing if it was the cold, or the ominous look to the dilapidated manor that loomed before him.