Goodbye Miss Havisham {Open}

[Emerick Sullivan]

(Teacher? Great. Though I've already done an rp with Daniel Todd, and I don't think this is the right setting for the two rivals. So If you rp another teacher, I'd appreciate a roleplay with you ^^)
(By the way, Goodbye Miss Havisham is a song by Sullivan, Miss havisham is a character from a Charles Dickens Novel. Her daughter's name was Estella. I've based Emerick's girlfriend, Estrella, after a mixture of The Havishams)

(And look! Emerick can experience feelings that are almost human-like! He must be at least part human!)




Emerick Sullivan inhaled deeply. He had not breathed this stench for a long time. It was like coming home after a long holiday. Except without the flooded basement and a bundimun infestation. Taken into account, the bundimun infestation also might be true here. The air was musty and smelled strongly of mold. Mixed in with that was body odor and alcohol. And a flooded basement may have done this place some good. Emerick felt rather more like he was walking on dirt than on floor as he strode towards the counter. He called to the barman for a butterbeer and walked to a desolate table in a secluded corner. It was far too early in the day for actual alcohol. But while he was in Hogsmeade, he may as well enjoy something.

His chair scraped the dirty floor of the Hog’s Head as he sat down. Emerick set his bottle on the table and spent a few moments looking around, sipping the bottle occasionally. When he was satisfied that he knew nobody here except the barman, and confirmed that he had a prime view of the door, he reached into his robes and drew out a rolled piece of parchment. The seal was still unbroken, as this was the first time he had enough time to himself to reach it. He thought his office would have been more preferable, but he had business to conduct at the item repair shop down the way. Emerick didn’t want to read it any later then he already had been forced too. He broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.



My Adored Emerick,

You’ve only been gone for three days and I miss you already. I’ll see you in Hogsmeade this weekend, right?

Going back to work was torture. I really wish I had more holiday time. But I suppose taking sick days when you work at a place like St. Mungo’s is rather redundant, not to mention suspicious. Any of these Healers could conjure me up a solution to anything I could think up in a split second. It makes me angry sometimes. Well, not just sometimes. All the time.

I’ve got my degree, and I have a fair credibility around here. Why am I still a nurse? I want to be a healer, that’s what I’ve trained for all these years! These people have cement blocks for brains, Emerick, and I’m afraid there is little room here for people like me.

Mother still is badgering me about meeting you properly. She’s really disappointed that you bailed out on the last two times she’s invited us over for tea. Couldn’t you at least make some effort to get along with my family? I know you don’t like them Emerick, but they’re my parents, whether they’re too much like yours or not. Please think about spending time with us over Christmas. I'm considering a winter wedding.

Much Love, Estrella

It was shorter than he’d expected. By this he was convinced that she was still moping, not just putting on a show. She truly was a pureblood wizard, he could read the selfishness dripping from every word. There was not one word asking him about how things were with him, just complaints about her life. And did she really think he would consent to spend Christmas with her family? She was obviously wanting more than she was going to get from him. He had a feeling that that something would soon include a wedding. Emerick sighed heavily. Of coarse his family would be pleased by his marriage, but since when did he ever go by what his parents thought? Frankly, he usually went out of his way to do the opposite. Marrying Estrella would be the cherry on their cake, so, naturally, he had decided long ago he’d never do it. They why had he finally proposed just last week? Already his regrets were haunting him.

He rolled the letter back up and set it down beside his butterbeer. He’d have to write a reply later, he had no quill, ink, or parchment on him. Besides, he wasn’t about to pay the post office for carrying a letter he could send free from the castle. Emerick brought his hands up to rub the stress from his eyes and forehead. He let his head rest there, eyes closed and covered by his fingers. He’d never noticed before how tired he was. When he closed his eyes, the fatigue made itself clear to him. He drove himself to hard. Perhaps this year he’d remember to slow it down a bit, take things in stride. No, Emerick couldn’t do that. How would he ever get anything done? Besides, if he took too much time to rest, Estrella might take the chance to whisk him off to one of her dinner parties. How he hated social functions.

[Frank Orrin]

Franklin Orrin loved Hogsmeade. In fact, the main reason he looked forward to a new school year was because of Hogsmeade. He loved the smells of Zonko's, the snow falling on his nose when he would walk through the crowded streets, and especially the feeling of entering the Hog's Head on a particularly cold day because when you entered a pub of such a cozy feeling, it would sweep all your thoughts away from you. Anything you thought was worrying you would be cleared from your mind as you entered. Maybe it was the sudden rush of warm air on a particularly snowy day or maybe it was the sight of so many old wizards enjoying their lunchtime doses of beer, but Orrin loved the place and lived for such a cavern as this.

Right when he arrived, two or three of the men in the bar acknowledged his presence with a raise of their glass as a hello and went right back to their conversations. As Frank peeled off his layers of coats and a scarf, he breathed in the smell of old whiskey and beer- a common drink among old and careless wizards. The place was filled with it's regular staff- one barman and about two tables filled with a few wizards at each. Frank threw his coat over his arm and looked around but only to find a lone man at a table that was to the side of all the other wizards. Of course, Frank knew him immediately. It was Emerick Sullivan.

Emerick Sullivan and Franklin Orrin had an odd relationship. They were colleagues, for one, but most of all Frank always felt a gentle vibe coming from the Charms professor. Although he was rather cold to most, Frank always tried to push their friendship to new heights. He tried out nicknames, jokes and anything else that might help Emerick adapt to having at least one friend on the staff at Hogwarts. Though, the real reason Frank wanted to be Emerick's friend was because of his work. Frank admired him (although he kept this information to himself). Why was no mystery. Emerick was a marvelous professor.

Orrin exhaled and walked over to the table where Emerick resided and gently placed his coat on the back of the chair opposite him. Not even saying one word, Frank left the table and went to the bar. The barman took a good five seconds to approach him. But, the professor did not even wait for the usual question of what he wanted. "Beer, please." he casually said, leaning on the bar with most of his weight. The barman started to walk away, but Frank called after him, "Oh and Sir, I'll be at that table." Frank turned to point at the table with Emerick, looked at make sure the barman understood and smiled as he walked back over to the lone table.

"Hey Emmy." he said, flashing a smile and scooting the chair out so he could sit. "How's your classes?" Frank tried his best to start some normal conversation. Heck, he even threw in the normal nickname that he had come up with for Emerick. It personalized things, really.

[Emerick Sullivan]

Alright. So he had come to terms with the fact that he’d royally messed up. What was he supposed to do about it now? It’s not like he could just send the girl an owl and say ‘Sorry. Had too much wine. I’ve changed my mind.’ That would make him look worse than he already felt. It’s bad enough to propose to someone you hate, but you can’t just take back something like that. Emerick ran over a list of possible ways out in his mind. ’Confess and get murdered, don’t confess and commit suicide, elope with a foreigner, get accidentally mauled by a ferocious beast- wait, does that count as suicide?’ Emerick frowned into his palms. Either he had an overactive imagination (not likely), or his options really weren’t all that great. 3 out of 4 involved his death, and the last involved someone with as much potential to be hated as his current fiancée. Right, time to think of something else.

Emerick heard the bell above the door ring. He dropped his hands to the surface of the table but didn’t look up. His eyes remained fixe on the bottle of butterbeer and the letter before him. Unwilling to think about it anymore, Emerick folded up the letter and returned it to his cloak. Because he wasn’t paying much attention, he was a little bit surprised when a cloak flopped over the chair in front of him. He looked up to see Professor Orrin’s back heading to the bar.

Emerick didn’t much know what he thought of Frank Orrin. The guy was nice, roughly Emerick’s age, though he looked older to Emerick. He taught History of Magic, a subject Emerick found fascinating. Emerick had always had an affinity to the mysteries that were long forgotten. He had also noticed Frank’s general attitude towards working. He seemed similar to Emerick in that respect, but the charms professor couldn’t stand the sight of Orrin’s classroom. Emerick kept his work area tidy and well catalogued, Frank’s was hardly sanitary in his opinion.

Emerick watched Frank from where he sat. He was in mid-sip when the other teacher sat down and begun talking. Emerick set the bottle down and swallowed before answering. Emerick smirked at the nickname. Orrin was the only person he’d ever let get away with that because Orrin was the only one who could pull it off and make it sound good. Emerick shrugged indecisively.

”Classes are classes. Some are good, some are bad. Averaged, they’re mediocre.”

Emerick wasn’t so sure if he was pleased with being approached so un-formally. It might work for other people, but it had never been in his comfort zone. But then, when had Frank Orrin ever respected his comfort zone? Emerick should be used to this by now. He supposed it was the formalities he’d attended over the summer. He hadn’t quite fallen back into the Hogwarts routine rut yet. The only thing he had against Orrin was that he’d been in Gryffindor, but that was old news by now. Besides, Emerick hardly remembered him from their school days. He thought he’d focus his malice on Gryffindors of the present and their current Head, Daniel Todd.

[Frank Orrin]

Frank laughed, leaning backward. His laugh was more a bark that an actual sign of emotion. "Yea, the same problem has been occurring with me. The students are crazy this year, I swear. They're already passing notes and it hasn't even been much time for them to be engulfed in school work. I just don't understand." He sighed, reaching back to scratch his head and run his fingers through his hair. He tended to do that when he was confused or even thinking about something. He really did need to drop that annoying feature of his, but he hadn't gotten the time to do so. Besides, who cares about his hair? If he wanted to scratch it, then he could.

Just as he was beginning to settle down, the barkeep brought over his drink and laid it down on the tabletop. The Professor nodded to the man before he left as if to tempt him to stay so that he could pay him now instead of later. Frank reached in the pocket of his robe and pull out a galleon for the drink. He dropped it in the man's hand and then added an extra sickle for the man's efforts. The barkeep smiled and headed back behind the counter. Frank emptied some of the loose change he had gathered while finding the coins back into his pocket and reached forward to take a drink of his beer.

It was just like any other beer. Cold and just how Frank liked it. The Hogs' Head never failed to make the perfect drink- even if it was possibly magicked up by the flick of a wand. It still had the quality of a fine materialistic drink- some type of showmanship Orrin always admired in a drink. "So, Emmy, how's the lady? After my little fiasco, I'd rather think of somebody else having a successful relationship rather than my own." Frank was very open about his personal life to Emerick. It was never certain why, but he chose to confide in him. Besides, the divorce between Frank and his wife had been more than two years ago. But, he still regretted it every minute. He had really loved that woman.

Though, trying to add a little bit of humor to the situation, Frank decided maybe there would be something that could take his mind off his own personal problems. He figured that once he returned to school that it would do the trick, but the students have been so unruly lately that the only things floating through his mind were his ex-wife. Besides, his lesson hadn't been going so well anyway. His first lesson of the year had been a catastrophe. He had lost the second page to his lesson plan and was forced to let the class out earlier than planned. Of course, the students loved it, but Frank felt so terrible after doing so.

[Emerick Sullivan]

Emerick nodded, the beginnings of a smile flickering on his lips. But they were soon drowned in a swig of butterbeer. Heck yes, he could relate. Of coarse, any student’s in Emericks class who decided to talk out of turn were docked points as a warning, then given detention if they persisted. Passed notes were enlarged and stuck on the wall at the front of the room for the rest of the day. Yes, Emerick had even earned himself a nickname. He warmed up to it right away the first time he’d heard “Lucifer”, “Satan”, or “The devil himself” whispered among the students. While only one or two seemed to recognize him by this calling, Emerick was pleased. Marks from students coming out of his class had been on the high end last year, and even if he had to become the most hated teacher in the school, he would keep it that way.

“Yes indeed. Makes me wonder why we even try. Of coarse, there’s always the paycheck, but couldn’t smart guys like ourselves get a job with a heftier wage in an instant?”

Emerick watched Frank muss his hair and fought to maintain a flinch-free expression. Did this guy have no respect for his appearance? But Emerick reminded himself it wasn’t any of his business to point out how sloppy he thought his fellow Porfessor was. Besides, he knew it was an extreme pet peeve of his and that most other people wouldn’t give a flying beaver to the cause. At this point, Emerick removed an arm from the table to give the barman and Frank more room for the transaction. Once the man had gone, looking rather cheerier than usual, Emerick instead leant against the back of his chair.

Emerick wasn’t expecting Frank to pinpoint the subject that was troubling him so easily. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to, after all, it wouldn’t have been the first time he and Frank had talked about this kind of stuff. It didn’t change the fact that Emerick didn’t want to talk about it. His nervous habit caused his to lick his lips. Emerick turned his eyes away from Frank; he wasn’t good at lying, or even half-truths for that matter. The only exception to this was Estrella, because he’d had so much practice.

“She’s happy.”

He muttered. Emerick didn’t want to mention that they were engaged unless the subject came up. He didn’t know how fast word traveled, Frank could already know by now, but Emerick wasn’t going to feed him the information on a silver platter. Emerick stared fixedly at his butterbeer, keeping his face as stoic as possible. After a moment he realized how suspicious this would make him seem and he forced himself to look back at Frank. Oh god, he was high-strung today. Why would Frank even care that they were having issues, or that the issues had been there from the beginning? Emerick was very certain that Frank would be less keen to associate with him if he learned what he really thought of Estrella. Emerick did not want that, even if Frank got on his nerves a bit. Frank talked, and that made Emerick talk. Usually things worked out for the best afterwards. But sharing a drink was one thing, and talking was a lot harder.