Paper Trails Don't Always Lead You Home {Megan}

[Dorian Stratford]

(please excuse any typos. I went through it a few times, but I may have missed some)

Dorian relaxed complacently on the windowsill. He sat cross-legged, so as to give Cartier a comfortable perch on his knee. The opening was wide enough and had a low railing, so he wasn’t worried about falling out backwards. He had preformed a scouring charm on it only moments before, in order to make it sanitary. His wand was still out, and he tapped a shoelace thoughtfully. It turned bright yellow momentarily before fading back to gray. Dorian frowned at it. He fingered the lace, turning it over so it now lay in the palm of his hand rather than dangling in front of him. It had never been in his shoe. No, this lace had been in someone else’s shoe. That was why Dorian rarely had shoelaces in his sneakers. They could be stolen too easily.

Dorian thought for a moment before giving it a sharp prod with his wand. This particular piece of wood was fairly long, made of mahogany, which he had been told was rather good for transfiguration. He supposed that was just as well, after all, Transfiguration was one of his favorite subjects. The idea of having a strange appearance appealed to him; big surprise. The ensuing glow eventually died away. To Dorian’s satisfaction, all that remained was a very large, and very live, earth worm. A dubious hoot told him Cartier was watching from his knee.

”Right little buddy…”

Using a spell he’d learned in first year, he transfigured the fat worm into something more suitable for an owl of Cartier’s tastes, though with a few modifications. A similarly large beetle now rested in Dorian’s palm, but it was leg-less. He offered the easy snack to Cartier, who took it with a surprised, but pleased, noise. Dorian would usually encourage the small owl to hunt for his own food, and very rarely did he make things easy for Cartier. This was more because he wanted Cartier to be able to get on without him. The owl had already spent 3 years with him, and Dorian had finally learned that hand feeding him all that time hadn’t been that good. Cartier had turned spoiled on him. Dorian found it irritating and now flat out refused to give the owl food. Hence Cartier’s reaction.

The only thing Dorian didn’t expect his owl to do was carry post. Honestly, something that small carry a letter cross country? But Dorian would sometimes give him notes to carry around the school, to keep his confidence up. Cartier needed to feel useful, like the other post owls. Yes, Dorian treated and thought of his owl much like a human, and Cartier was about as unpredictable as one too. Cartier’s mood swings were often irritating or amusing, depending on what caused them. Dorian withdrew his thoughts from animal psychology and began searching his pockets for another practice dummy.

Dorian’s hands closed on a rough surface and he drew it out of his pocket, with a small exclamation of ”Oh yeah!” Dorian brushed a few pieces of string off of the envelope. Dorian set aside the smalll package tucked underneath it. He had quite forgotten why he’d come to the Owlery in the first place. It was a Honeydukes order form. Dorian was running low on sugar quills, he’d forgotten to buy more before the year begun. He had only scrounged one from the depths of his trunk. It was dusty and had gotten the handle of his new Nimbus 2000 rather sticky.

“So Cartier? Are any of these owls worthy?” Cartier hooted doubtfully through the beetle stuffed in his beak. A coughed up ball of fur and bones found itself bouncing off of Dorian’s shoulder. He smiled and muttered ”Joking, joking….” Dorian selected an owl that looked as if it had nothing to loose from a short trip to Hogsmeade, but also would not be offended by such a minor job, and sent it off with the letter. The jumped up sooty owl flew out the window with an exclamation of excitement.

Besides the neatly enveloped order there was still the tattered little package. It was wrapped in twine. Dorian enclosed it tightly in his hand. It was the package he wasn’t so sure he would send. Inside was a tiny rolled note and chocolate frog. The chocolate frog was for proof, and the note, the note was for Damian. It was short. A simple hello, really.

_{“Hey, It’s Dorian. Remember me? I’m writing from Hogwarts. It’s the only place I can get out of mom checking the mail. You know what Hogwarts is? It’s my new school. I learn all sorts of stuff here. I don't think I could explain it on a paper this small. But if you look long enough at the picture in the candy wrapper, you might get it.”}

It was awkward, vague, and definitely not well written. He had wanted to add that he’d wanted to come visit, but how the heck could have done that? It was the middle of the school year. He also wanted to yell at Damian, for a variety of reasons. But he figured a howler would do his father very little good but perhaps get him moved to solitary confinement. Imagine the guards a shouting letter would attract? And then when there was no envelope left over for evidence? Dorian immediately forgot about that idea. And how could he be sure such a package would even reach his father any ways? I mean, he was imprisoned on a totally different continent! Not to mention the high security institution he was imprisoned in. He didn’t know if any of the school’s owls would be able, or be permitted, to make the trip to Canada. He’d have to wait for the next Hogsmeade trip and mail it then.

Dorian stood, still in the center of the Owlery, gazing thoughtfully at the letter. He didn’t even register Cartier hooting impatiently in his ear.

[Megan Meade]

The book went flying through the air, a very distressed Megan running after it. She reached out and attempted to pluck it from the air, but whatever one of the Slytherins that was levitating it seemed oblivious to her struggle and only raised it that much higher above her slight figure. She breathed out a heavy sigh of frustration, reached out again, and tried to capture it this time. Several more tries produced nothing, until, finally, she just managed to grasp the binding and pull it down, crossing her arms across it and hugging it to her chest to prevent it from going anywhere else. It was only then that she did whirl on her attackers, her hazel eyes glowing with fury.

She pushed some of the long, multi-colored strands of blue, pink, and black, behind her small ears and bit her lip hard, an old angry or nervous gesture. She went off on the three that seemed to be having fun attacking her as well as a number of the other younger students in the current hall, not seeming to care if they were in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw. Only Slytherins seemed to be safe from this little prank. She hugged the Transfiguration book even more tightly, glaring at the students as she told them all to go get a life. She was not one to be easily intimidated.

After she told them how she felt about the situation, and they sort of gaped at her, not expecting this tiny, misfit girl with the mismatched locks, to be the one to actually stand up to them, she turned to leave. The short black skirt she had on reached her mid thigh, and showed off the fact that her legs weren't the least bit fat, as was the rest of her body. She wore a dark pink shirt, and black flip-flops. She loved those shoes, it was as close as you could get to being barefoot without actually taking off your shoes. She had removed her nose ring today, lately she had stopped liking how it looked, writing it off as a moment of stupidity on her normally clean, perfect record.

Though she had but fourteen years to her, she would strike you as much older simply because of her attitude. She just acted more mature, more sure of herself. Like she had just demonstrated, she knew how to handle herself. She knew how to stand up for herself, wasn't scared easily and definently wasn't intimidated by others most times. She just seemed....wise for her age. It might seem like fourteen was still an age to have fun, still an age to be a kid. But, in her household, Meg had had to grow up quickly.

On her way down the hallway, she reached out and plucked another book from the air, handing it to a smallish, first year Hufflepuff, whose face appeared red from the exertion it had taken to chase the book down. He smiled tenatively at her, eyeing her curiously at first no doubt her choice in hair color, but then realizing she really didn't mean him any harm, and a real grin lit up his thin face as he took the book from her and tucked it back into his bag. She remembered that book, back from her first year of Potions. Oh, how she always despised that class.

She continued her journey down the hallway, a letter grasped in one hand as she still kept her arms crossed firmly across her text, as she had been originally heading for the Owlery, and seemed to have picked the wrong route to get to her destination. She sighed slightly, shifting the book a bit, as it was resting on one of the huge bruises she had on her forearm. She had meant to heal that, but, she didn't think it would work. Her father hit with magic....magic wouldn't always help heal it. She just tried to hide it for now, trying not to let others see how much she was hurting.

Meg was like that, she always kept to herself. She had so few friends, it was almost laughable. She kept to herself for the most part because she was worried people would find out about her past. Then they would think her weak, they would think her weak and powerless and easy to take advantage of. And she didn't want to live to see the day when people started to take advantage of her. She's an independent soul, she doesn't like people to tell her what to do and when to do it. She likes to make her own decisions, and do them in her own time.

She paused at the window, looking out it and across the lawns as she viewed the people who were relaxing there. It was a weekend after all, students were free to do as they pleased and free to go, for the most part, wherever they wished to go. That's what Meg loved so much about Hogwarts. Here, she didn't have to worry about stepping out of line, and getting beaten because of it. She didn't have to worry about people yelling at her fr even the smallest mistake. She could be herself.

She spotted a Quiddicth game, and a smile lit her face. There. That was her calling. She had played since her second year, and was now going to try out again this year. She loved the postion of keepepr. She loved to be out there, watching that game. She loved that rush when you went out, watching it, and then, you saw it come closer to you. Suddenly, the another player thros the Quaffle and you rush after him. She loved that rush, it was a high. It was almost perfect. And she shined out there, she really did. It was almost natural for her to be riding out there.

She closed her mind to the memory, and then continued down the way to the Owlery. She was almost there when her bag busted on her, the bottom falling out, and she sighed loudly. Today didn't seem to be her day at all. She sighed again, grabbed her wand, and used a repairing spell to sew the bottom of her bag back up. She put the rest of her books back in it, including the previously levitating one, shoved her wand in her back pocket, and picked up the letter again.

She entered the small, circular room, clicking her tongue twice. An elegant, large, black owl flew gracefully from its perch. Its feathers shone in the midmorning light that slanted through the open windows, and its golden eyes sparkled with love, happiness, and curiosity. It hooted happily as soon as it saw Megan, landed on her left shoulder, and nipped affectionately at her ear. She smiled and laughed some, reaching over with her right hand and stroking it.

It was then that she noticed that there was a boy standing in the middle of the room, seemingly lost in thought. Blushing a bright crimson, she took a deep breath, willing herself to say something normal and greeting like. "Hi..." she said in an almost whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hello." she said again in a normal tone, the owl on her shoulder turning its head to the side and gazing at the person with curiousity. She waited for a reply, and looked around as she did so.

[Dorian Stratford]

(I assumed that since she put the text books away, the bruise was showing. But don't worry, nothing drastic happens because of it. Read on ^^

Sorry it's a crap post.... didn't really know what to put.)

Why now? It was all Dorian could think about. He had lived for 7 years without ever contacting his father. So why was it so important to him now? He couldn’t get Damian off his mind. Rarely had Dorian ever felt so bad. He had had moments in his past years at Hogwarts where he felt he was ready to burst with the frustration of school life. But in all honesty, Damian had long since fallen out of his life. He wasn’t a regular thought anymore. But why then, was Dorian so determined to get in touch with the man that had once been his best friend?

A jab of pain shot through his earlobe. He reached up suddenly, almost knocking Cartier from his shoulder. He’d quite forgotten the bird was there. To get Dorian’s attention, Cartier has nipped him sharply on the ear. He felt as if his ear had been split open. Though he supposed the owl had been attempting to get his attention by hooting loudly, and Dorian had ignored it. Grumbling, Dorian rubbed his ear fervently. He looked crossly at the flammulated owl. ”What is it you-Oh!”

A large owl swooped past him. Cartier had been trying to draw his gaze to the person who had just entered. The hand containing the package quickly fell to his pocket, where it was swallowed at once by a his school robes. He blushed slightly at being caught so unawares, and hoped she had not seen the package. Silly thing to worry about really. It wasn’t as if she could tell what it was by looking for it. But it held a sort of sentimental side of Dorian, and he would rather nobody saw it. Drat, he supposed it was that crying girl down at the lake. She must have ruffled his defense mechanisms more than he’d thought.

Lucky for Dorian though, he soon found his personality taking over. He smiled broadly at her, raising his hand in a two-fingered wave. In response to her greeting, he spoke one of his customary greetings:

”Howdy.”

Dorian nodded as he said this. The reason he was nodding was that Cartier had picked that particular moment to clumsily flap onto the top of his head in order to get a better look at the black owl. Cartier had missed his mark a little and was struggling not to fall off the back of Dorian’s head. So Dorian had tipped it, to give him a more favorable position. Looking what only Dorian could imagine as ruffled, Cartier gained proper balance and stood among the wisps of Dorian’s hair, trying his best to look dignified. He hooted shrilly in a greeting to the black owl. Dorian stifled a giggle. In Cartier’s nervousness, his attempt at hooting had come out as a high-pitched coo-croo sound that was most definitely not characterized with Flammulated owls.

Dorian, distractions ceasing, now noticed the girl in full. She had long hair in multiple colors. He wouldn’t have recognized her hair much had he not so often been drilled on hair-care by Jacob. She had a look about her that Dorian thought suggested that it would be best not to upset her. He resolved not to do anything to unusual until her skin had died down to a normal shade of red. Dorian twirled his wand about casually in his hands. It was aching to transfigure something, but he rather thought it impolite to pause a potential conversation to practice spellwork. Dorian smiled again, when he noticed a large broom on her forearm. This didn’t mean much to him. Perhaps she’d had a fall. He had a sudden idea.

”Hey, D’you play Quidditch?”

Dorian asked, perhaps a little to eagerly. He was rather excited himself about getting accepted onto the Gryffindor team, but had had little time to talk tactics with other players. He naturally linked injury with the sport, so he thought perhaps that she played the game.

[Megan Meade]

((Aw that's fine, and yes the bruise would be showing...glad to be rping with someone who pays so much attention to my detail ^^))

Megan let Eclipse, that was her owl's name, do as she pleased, climbing over to Meg's opposite shoulder, head cocked in curiousity still. Eclipse had been the gift to her by an aunt, perhaps one of the few family members she could actually call family, who had said she wanted to keep in touch, and this was simply, around these parts, the only way. Meg smiled at that memory, how she loved her Aunt Judy, but she rarely got the opprotunity to see her, what with her father strict and such. The smile faded then, as Eclipse pulled on a strand of pink hair, the bright colors always caught her attention the most.

She tried to regain her composure, as did the boy who she seemed to have startled. Her face grew redder before the blush faded, her skin was so pale it caught even the slightest hint of heat from a minor moment of embarassement and magnified it, making it seem as if Megan herself was terrified or something. That seemed to be another reason why she kept to herself so much, her apperance. The multi-colored strands of hair, the pale skin and weird piercings....it was a rebellion against her parents for the most part, but it drove people away all the same.

She calmed what she could of her flustered attitude and tucked the letter into the pocket of her skirt...she didn't bother with robes too often, as long as it was weekeneds, they couldn't control what she wore. Well, to a certain extent, at least. She removed her wand from her back pocket, shoved it in her bag, and set it down on the ground beside her feet. A loud hoot came from beside her right ear, causing her to flinch slightly. Eclipse seemed to like the idea of company, as if she weren't constantly surrounded by owls. She had always been an odd owl, more like a person than an animal.

She smiled at the two finger wave, a gesture that wasn't uncommon for Meg to do when she was greeting people. She nodded slightly in greeting, if she noticed anything odd at first, she didn't let on. Most the time, Megan was pretty observative. She noticed most things, knew what was going on and usually why it was happening....and things like that. She raised an eyebrow as the owl, his owl, seemed to be trying to gain perch on his head, and had little or no luck. "What's your name? she asked, trying to be nice and all.

She laughed some as the owl tried to gain perch on his head some more, ruffling his longish hair and messing it up some. It's feathers rustled as it tried to straighten itself, and only seemed to make itself more off balance. She laughed louder then, full out laughter, some things she just found too funny not to laugh at. She was the sort of person to laugh at a joke minutes after everyone else had decided it wasn't funny anymore, had decided it was over and something new could be done.

She paused to eamine the boy fully now, as the owl seemed to have calmed down. She held her arm at an angle, bending her elbow, providing a perch for Eclipse. The owl hooted again and hopped down, and she patted it absentmindedly, as she studied the boy. His hair was cool, she had to give him that. She always noticed people's hair first, perhaps because she knew that's what they would notice first about her. Her face had cooled now, and she studied him as much as she could without staring. All in all, from appearance, he seemed very similar to herself.

She was surprised at his question, and glanced down as he seemed to be glancing a bit at her arm, where the bruise was. Of course, it could've very well come from Quidditch, no doubt. That was not a safe sport, by any means. Things were constantly being thrown, Quaffles and Bludgers flying everywhere and hitting anyone and everyone playing. Even her position, Keeper, seemingly away from the action, had a ton of potential danger to it. She was just happy to be on the team.
"Yeah, I do. Keeper on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I love it.....do you play?" She asked the question back to him, curious now. Most the members of her own House team were older than her, and therefore pretty much keeping to themselves, not caring mich for a fourth year to follow them and interrogate them about various plays and such. She found the subject fascinating, odd for a girl, admittedly, but she was a tomboy by most accounts.

[/blockquote]

[Dorian Stratford]

(ick, crap post coming. My sincerest apologies.)

Dorian brushed his feelings of foolishness away. He grinned, she seemed to be enjoying Cartier’s antics. He tried to count the strands of colored hair on her head, but it was impossible as she was laughing and they wouldn’t stay still. He liked her laugh, it was pleasant. She looked as if she didn’t do it much either. But it made him laugh along with her. Dorian, looking out for Cartier’s safety, reache dup and caught the owl in his fist. It was hard. Even though Cartier was full grown, his species was among the smallest. He’d never get much bigger than the span of Dorian’s outstretched hand.

Dorian let the owl climb back onto his shoulder. Cartier seemed disgruntled about the arrangement. Her made his protest my taking flight immediately, and alighting instead on a ledge closer to the girl and her owl. Dorian muttered after him:

”Traitor.” Grinning, he looked back to the girl, in order to answer her question. ”I’m Dorian Stratford, and yourself?”

He noticed now that she wasn’t in school uniform. It made Dorian feel foolish for wearing his. If she could get away with it on a weekend, why couldn’t he? Dorian made a mental note to not wear uniform tomorrow, or the weekend after that and see if she really wasn’t just being really sneaky. He grinned in the face of her subtle examination, however silly he felt. Dorian decided she must be al right. He didn’t know why, but he labeled her then and there as a person that he approved of. He wondered though, if that meant a whole lot. After all, he’d approved of some pretty dodgy people. He shrugged mentally and deiced to make a subgroup for people that were cut above the rest and put her in it. Her image swam in her head a moment, next to those of his mother and a friendly woman he’d met years ago at the AKC building in North Dakota. She was sort of a grandmotherly figure, he supposed, though he had long forgotten her name. Funny how he remembered faces but not names.

Dorian bowed mockingly in response to her question. ”Gryffindor seeker, actually.” he beamed and straitened up. ”This was the first year I tried out. Honestly can’t believe I made it. Though I suppose it may have been the fact that I was the only one trying for seeker. Funny how that works isn’t it?” He added jokingly. A smile was plastered to his face, but he could do little to dislodge it. A cheery mood does that to you.

”How long have you been on the team? I don’t remember seeing you play keeper before, but I suppose it’s possible I missed something.” Dorian grinned slyly, as if jesting that an appearance like hers was easy to miss. Though in all honesty, he didn’t’ remember seeing her play before. But then, he usually did focus on chaser tactics, keeping his other eye on the seekers. His mind had little time for the keepers, except when they saved or let in the quaffle, then it was back to the high speed aerial battle.

[Megan Meade]

Meg tried to stifle her laughter some, sure she sounded idiotic for it or whatever, but it just struck her as funny. She wasn't one to laugh much, but when she did, it was a full out, stomach wrenching laugh. She just seeemed to find things very halarious at times. She smiled when he laughed along with her, thinking that perhaps she wasn't as crazy as she seemed to be. She watched him grope for the small owl and grab it. Though Meg had described her owl as large, Eclipse was really just a normal sized owl, thought admitedly bigger than his owl he had there. She smiled again as they were both still laughing. Unlike most people, this boy seemed to enjoy her company.

She watched as the owl seemed to fight with the boy a little then he took flight and came over to the ledge that was closer to Meg and Eclipse, and she laughed some at that fact. She flinched some as Eclipse's claws dug into her shoulder, then the owl took off and landed on the legde a few feet from his owl. She cocked her head to the side and stuided him carefully, before making a slight clucking noise.

"My name's Megan Meade. But most people just call me Meg or Meggie." She told him, smiling when he called his owl a traitor in a good natured fashion and all. She walked over to another ledge and sat on it herself, leaning her back against the wall and glancing out across the lawns, watching the other students, before she looked back up at him. Even when she was standing, Meg was very, very short. So now, she must seem pretty tiny. Not that that fact usually bothered her.

She had pretty much decided now, due to first impressions and all, that she could like this guy, as a friend and everything. What was odd about that was that Meg was usually very picky about who she would hang out with or talk to. She had seen too many horrible things in her past, and knew that, if she associated herself with the wrong people, she could end up hurting like that again. So she was careful of who she talked to, careful of whom she made friends with and deemed favorable. She didn't trust easily, it was as simple as that.

She smiled at the mock bow, it was a sort of gesture that she might consider lame from some but he seemed to pull it off very easily. "Oh...I think I remember you. Ravenclaw Keeper, that's what I've always been...I love it." she nodded, very glad to have someone to talk about Quidditch with. "Maybe I saw you at try outs or something..." she commented, thinking aloud. She nodded again when he said that was funny. "It's my third year playing....I guess I must have some sort of talent or something."

"Like I said, it's my third year playing Keeper." she said. She rolled her eyes when he seemed to be implying that she would be hard to miss. She was anything but easy to miss. She was very....unique. She sighed some and leaned back against the wall, getting more comfortable and glancing out again. "So what do you plan to do today?" she asked, curious and wanting to keep the conversation up and running. She didn't usually like to talk much, but today she felt like it might be nice.

[Dorian Stratford]

(YAY! Dorian finally gets to his stock of lame jokes ^^)

She was a truly pleasant person. And Cartier seemed to like her owl. Even though Cartier could be a bit of a dunce at the best of times, Dorian had to trust his sense of judgement. Owl’s weren’t usually wrong, after all. And it would be foolish to accuse one of error. After all, they did carry your letters, always managing to get it to the right person. And if her owl was okay with Cartier, then she was even more okay by Dorian. Though he had to admit to himself that if Cartier hadn’t liked Eclipse, or her for that matter, Dorian probably would have simply ignored him. Well, he was a dunce right?

He followed her gaze for a moment out of the window. Cartier was hooting curiously at the black owl. It would seem they were getting on alright. He smiled and nodded thoughtfully. 3 years? He really must have not been paying attention. Or perhaps her hair wasn’t dyed so flamboyantly before? Either way, she was right, she must have talent to have been on the team for that long. He supposed he’d have to keep a better eye out from now on. He nodded.

”Yeah, tryouts probably.”

He laughed as she rolled her eyes. ’So what do you plan to do today?’

”Oh you know, nothing much. Skiing maybe.”

He said casually, fighting to keep back a grin. Of coarse, skiing. Because the Hogwarts grounds were so full of snow this time of year. It occurred to him though that she might be from a wizarding family and not be acquainted with muggle sports. Oh well, if she asked, he’d explain. He shook his head vaguely.

”But no, seriously, I’m in intensive training to become a ninja. That tends to take up a fair bit of my time. It’s not easy being really, really good at martial arts.”

He sighed heavily, as if being a master ninja was such a burden, but he bore it nobly for the good of mankind. Dramatizing. He realized it was a lame thing to say, but those wore the jokes Dorian gravitated to. He was a clown of random facts, lame jokes, and even weirder riddles. His mouth didn’t spew the fouler end of the humor spectrum. He’d been around it enough in his time, but those comments had never appealed to Dorian. He supposed it was the light-hearted little bunny rabbit in him that rejected those. He grinned at the thought of a cartoon rabbit with a heart of it’s front living inside him, with loads of cute little butterflies and duckies to follow it around and make adorable noises and give out hugs. My, that did sound pleasant. He must be a nicer guy then even he thought.