` its all rubbish, sciurus!

[dahlia clearwater]

Oh my, the dreaded Shack. The most haunted thing in London they say, whatever. Dahlia had wandered into the building, alone, once or twice in pure curiosity. It ended in disappointment, the young girl had found nothing paranormal about the severely gossiped about house. Today, she decided to separate herself from the overgrown streets of Hogsmede, once again to be alone by the cruddy shack. Earlier in the day, she had owled a older friend to meet her there, Thatchy, or Sciurus Thatch, oh he just loved when Dahlia called him by that name. Thatch...was a very close friend, so close indeed, she called him an older brother. They had a long history, and today she just felt like seeing him. For the first time in a long time, actually.

Great memories from her early years at Hogwarts were spent with him and her brother. And some, not so great, Dahlia recalled many times of him having to save her from various obstacles of life. Most stories were kept between themselves, others..that were quite funny, were told to everyone possible. The kept ones were usually the ones where Dahlia was being tortured by some older Slytherin student, or an older student period; and ended with her brother and Sciurus nearly killing the poor fellow. One usually talked about were the one time where she had been attacked by the Whomping Willow and kept upside down until her face turned red; and them trying to save her and ending up needing saving themselves....Those were the days. Not really. Some cases still happened to Dahlia currently, and she had no one to help her fend the meanies off but her wand.

Dahlia made her last struggling steps though the deep mud toward her, yes her, large tree stump. Climbing onto the stump, she pulled off her muddy rain boots and set them aside. Bringing her knees to her chest, her arms became firmly wrapped around her legs. The flaps on her silly little winter hat lifted up and down with the wind and Dahlia's curly hair. Tiny toes were quickly being overpowered by the cold air, good thing socks were created, yet the only thing they were good for was keeping your shoes from giving you blisters. Believe it or not, the one thing Dahlia missed about Winter was the solid grounds, slippery, but solid. Spring grounds were usually muddy and deep, just waiting to suck in a poor little student.

Shivering like a Flutterby Bush, Dahlia pulled her bright teal, feather vest tighter around her torso. The girl had prepared herself well for the frosty wind of the Shrieking Shack; feather vest, long sleeved wool sweater, a tight, gray tee-shirt, and thick jeans that clung to her skin. Muggle clothing, she usually wore it, everywhere she could, they were way more comfortable than her school robes.

Letting her knees go, she crossed her legs, looked around, and exhaled deeply. Where was Sciurus? A bit late on her time, didn't matter, as long as he showed, right? Thatchy would show, he wouldn't dare pull a stand up on the poor little Clearwater girl would he?

[Sciurus Thatch]

As he trudged through Hogsmeade, Sciurus Thatch looked about the same as ever; his clothes were the usual drab, dark colors-- a thin, gray jumper, black trousers, heavy black robes, unbuttoned, that looked more like an overcoat than anything else-- however, one thing set off the entire ensemble: a long, multi-colored scarf, which he was wearing only grudgingly. It was ridiculous. Despite his height, it was almost too long for even him. One of his brothers had given it to him as a Christmas present, and his wife had insisted that he wear it out today, since it was, in her words, "So cheerful!" According to Helen, it also "brought out the color of his eyes." Sciurus, feeling particularly ornery this morning, wanted to deny it, but... well, he did have to admit, his eyes looked bluer than ever today. Perhaps Helen was right. He supposed he did dress the way she told him to for a reason.

Still, he wasn't used to wearing such bright colors. It made him feel as though everybody was looking at him, silently accusing him of foppishness, laughing the moment he passed by. He didn't like it one bit! Anxiously, he chewed on one tasseled end of the scarf as he walked through the town and towards the Shrieking Shack. Of course, he had to maintain an air of normalcy. Right, yes, of course. And so, whenever Sciurus passed somebody he knew, he pulled the tassels from his mouth and offered a large, chipper grin and a "Hello! Lovely breeze today, isn't it?"

As he came nearer to the Shrieking Shack, he began to look out for Dahlia Clearwater, an old friend-- well, sort of. Sciurus didn't really consider most people "friends" of his, but she was nice. Inoffensive. And he was friendly with her brother, so there you go. Okay, to be quite honest, he did care for her a bit, but it was always difficult trying to be her friend, since his little sister would become upset and wind up hexing Dahlia between classes. Still, it was a pleasant surprise to get a letter from the girl-- that is, until the owl demanded payment and flew around the flat nipping at Sciurus for half an hour when he didn't have a knut on hand to give it.

Once he spotted Dahlia, sitting on what appeared to be her favorite tree stump (well, he didn't know if it was really her favorite or not), Sciurus quickly stopped chewing on his scarf and slouching, as he squared his shoulders and adopted a less antsy appearance. He approached her, wading (well, it felt like wading) through the mud, dirtying the legs of his trousers in the process. Oh well, so long as he didn't get any mud squishing about in his work boots, he didn't mind.

"Dahlia! Hello!" he greeted, quite enthusiastically, once he reached the girl. "This is, um, quite the hospitable meeting place," he remarked, glancing around the gloomy surroundings. Sciurus hugged his arms across his chest, trying to keep warm against the harsh, chilly breeze. "If I were a suspicious person, I'd say you lured me out here to kill me."

Oh, that thought hadn't actually occurred to Sciurus before. Now he was going to fixate on it for the rest of the day. He stared, quite seriously, at Dahlia for a brief moment, then shook the paranoid expression away and replaced it with a bright, pleasant look. "How's... life? Have you been well?" It was a perfectly bland question to start things off with, but Sciurus was only interested in moving away from the "kill me" comment.