fallowed((Arya Sillhouette))

[Monica Henshaw S5]

Mossy stone blocks spilled across the verdant green of the countryside, haphazardly set in a curvilinear path. The route to Hogsmeade, the roughly hewn slabs became smooth and well worn topside, showing the ravages of time and the heavy tread of its users. A lone figure stalked that path, her boots striking the path with an ominous note. The rich cloak she wore trailed pompously behind her, whilst the polished black of her boots presented a nice juxtaposition of light and shade as they crunched on the white snow. ‘Get out of my way,’ she snarled, as she pushed a sluggish first year student aside roughly. Striding past, she deemed to give the unfortunate lad a frosty stare and sneered maliciously. ‘Shouldn’t you be at school?’ she drawled snidely, as she noted down the house of the child. Apparently it was a first year who wasn't allowed during school hours. ‘Get back there, less you want detentions for the rest of your schooling life. Now.’

She pointed an imperious hand towards the soaring spires of Hogwarts and scowled darkly. The boy fled, shooting a tearful glance behind at the pitiless slytherin, before disappearing up the path. It was infuriating to play the role of a glorified babysitter; it was even worse to keep up the charade outside of school grounds. Yet, she had a role to play, and play it well as she could. Always a cautious girl being prone to such a situation called for additional prudence, yet there was this naggingly familiar feeling of being followed. She continued on, listening hard. Yes. She was sure of it. A step out of time, the tap of a light footfall, the stilted sound of coughing all confirmed it. Whoever was tailing her, they were doing a damn poor job of it. And she intended to find out whom. It was impossible not to admire the stalker’s tenacity at trailing Monica Henshaw, however; not many would dare to simply because of the fearsome reputation she had gathered to herself over the years, Whatever was following her, should it be animal, man, or student, would receive a nasty surprise in approximately four seconds flat. ‘Four,’ she counted softly under her breath. ‘Three, two, one … Dissimulo.’ A sensation of coolness spread across her body and enveloped her senses as she disappeared from view. To the unseen observer, it would seem as if she had vanished from the naked eye. Good. Her brow smoothed as a smirk spread across his countenance. Cheap trickery and illusions never ceased to amuse her. A spark of mirth entered her grey eyes as she stepped off the path and behind a convenient bush to wait and see. Wand out, she waited for his pursuer to arrive. And when he/she/it/them did, there would be hell to pay and blood to shed.

Tensed for action, poised for fight and certainly not flight, Monica waited with bated breath. A trail of ants marched up the branch parallel to her hidden countenance and her attention turned to the insignificance of their meaningless insect lives, which in turn, could be correlated to the meaningless plebeian life of the twit that had shadowed her from the castle. For surely it was a twit, who had turned up with a bit, of a lack of sense who had followed her. And as if life wanted to confirm heris thoughts, a small, ferrety, foreign looking boy sprung out from the path, waving his wand wildly and exerting something about Monica not having guts for anything. Conveniently ignoring the latter part of the boy’s sentence, Monica sprang to action in a courtier’s way. That is, she uncloaked herself showing her black shirt and jeans she had been wearing and announced her presence in a deliberately derisive tone. She would have hit the boy with a glove, but that could be construed as manhandling and her record wasn’t exactly pristine, if you get my gist. ‘Excuse you,’ she said coldly, as she disarmed the boy with a single flick of his ebony wand. ‘I am a slytherin – what are you doing, following me, do you know who you're messing with?’ She fixed her eyes upon this child. ‘Did you know that is a punishable offence? One answerable by a sentence in Azkaban?’ Of course it was not, but what would this brat know? Practically nothing, seeing that he had followed her all the way from the Castle and probably from her dormitory office before hand too. Retarded or not, the boy needed to be disciplined. With a firm hand. There was such a variety to punish him with, whatever should she choose?!

Monica mulled over her myriad choices as she absently anchored the boy to the ground with the leg-locker curse. ‘little boy, little boy, little boy’ she chided, as she circled the boy as a vulture does to a carcass. A dead carcass. ‘Whatever should I do with you?’ The question was rhetorical, but she hastened to continue, lest the boy think she needed to reply. ‘I don’t take kindly to being followed,’ she spat menacingly. 'Can you possibly imagine what you have done boy? Of the conclusions people can draw from this? Of the possible reparations that may need to be given by this unwanted interference?' 'Do you know who I am, boy?!' Belatedly she realised that the brat must have, otherwise she wouldn't have followed her. Unless the kid was one of those half-wits who followed anything that was remotely shiny. There were a few of them at Hogwarts, and more than enough to have the Sorting Hat reviewed by an independent body and with good cause. Leering maniacally, as she raised his wand, her eyes lingered coldly on the boy’s face before she uttered her next words. 'Colouris Changis.' Once again, the colour changing spell was employed. And this time, it wasn't for a Quidditch Match, but to show everyone the true nature of the boy and the colour of shame. A nice shade of red. 'That's to remind you not to give unwarranted attention to your betters,' Monica informed him bluntly. 'And now, you can make a choice. Either getting detention for stocking me and have this informed to all your professors or spending spending the whole day with me with my torture. Another impatient flick of her wand and the leg locker spell was lifted. 'Choose quickly, for I have no time to spare,' drawled Monica. 'Now!!'

The child of coarse had chose of what she had expected. He was willing to ruin his reputation with the professors instead of spending a day with her. She made a note to herself to tell house head or atleast to one of her favorite professors. She then said to the little child ‘If you ever speak to me again, I expect you to address me as Ms. Henshaw, Madam, Master, or Master Henshaw at all times,’ she informed him curtly, smoothly overlaying the dodgiest nature of her previous words. A smirk spread across her countenance, as she lightly pushed the lad away from her presence. Beginning to stroll leisurely down the path to Hoghead, Monica wondered what arduous tasks could be assigned to her tomarrow. Most certainly the tasks would be hellishly hard and messy. Perhaps even time-consuming and harsh to bear. Yes. Yes. She strode along, mindful of the lagging presence of her newly acquired help. If there was any doubt whether this kid had a grain of sense in that. 'I won’t tolerate insolence nor sanction of previous behaviours of children within such a public place.' she murmured under her breath.

Monica made her way into Hogshead after her meeting with such a child. She idmediatley ordered a butterbeer. Sitting at a table. Talking under her breath still about the incident that occured she grabbed an abadoned newspaper that was on the table and began to read. It had explained how Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore. She flushed at this. 'I don't need any stupid Aurors to take care of me!!!" she vexed. Monica threw the paper to a third year that was walking by with red hair. 'It's hard to find good families nowadays what with blood traitors and mudbloods mucking up the gene pool. Speaking of blood traitors, this red head reminded her of the Weasley's. I swear, that Ginny looks like she hasn't taken a bath in ages. I mean, she just steps out of the floo powder and walks around town without even bothering to wipe her face off!' Oh well, when you walk around with muck like Hermione Granger it can't help but rub off' she said under her breath with a smirk on her face. She took another sip of her drink and waited for company.

[aryasillhouette]

Arya had been sitting quietly in a corner by herself at the Hogshead for what now seemed like hours. She had left the school early that morning to stop from having to walk to Hogsmeade with the crowd that normally left the castle to visit the village. The thought of mingling with the mudbloods, and blood traitors, and half-bloods, that were in the usual crowd, just caused Arya to have the chills. She spent enough time with those people during classes and at meals, what on earth would make anyone think that she wanted to be around them anymore than that.

Arya had seen an array of people come in and out of the small pub, but the one that caught her attention the most, was a fellow slytherin. Arya had never formally met the girl, but knew her year, and name; it was Monica Henshaw, a fourth year. Arya listened as she began to complain apparently about the article she was reading.

Arya eased out of her chair, doubting that Monica had seen her, for Arya had picked the darkest corner of the pub to sit in. Gently pulling her wand out of her pocket, she eased over to the younger Slytherin. Arya knew that even the most cocky person, let their guard down occasionally, and at the moment Monica seemed to be that way.

Stepping ever so quietly, and shooting looks at any who dared to speak, Arya made her way behind the youngster. Although Arya was only teasing, she didn't want Monica to hear or see her, for everyone needed to know that they shouldn't believe that they could not always take care of themselves. Placing the tip of her wand on the girl's shoulder, Arya bent down and whispered in the girl's ear. "Shh, there's no need to shout, or be so cocky. Not everyone can take care of themselves." Arya knew that she had startled the girl, and that was the whole point, to show that anyone could sneak up on someone if the person was being too loud.

((Sorry if it's a bit crappy. Inspiration abades me at the moment, because of personal things))

[Monica Henshaw S5]

While Monica enjoyed her drink she listened to the words that were whisper into her ear. Since when she ever been called cocky? Never in her lifetime. Immediately she got form her chair, pulled out her wand and pointed it to the victim. . For a minute there she was ready to attack on the person. Getting her hopes up. She then realized it was a fellow student for slytherin. They were in the same house, but different year yet they never spoke much Monica offered her hand she was afraid that she would shook it firmly. Perhaps a little too firmly for a mere woman to grasp properly and endure. 'Greetings, Ayra,' she said please, be seated. Monica sat back down hoping the girl will do the same. She wasn't one of those smile-and-sit-down kind of girls. Monica gave sharp looks to any who stared. She then got her attention back to Ayra. What kind of things she liked? Or was she very girly but one would do best not to assume anything about the opposite party May I offer you something to drink? I find that time passes more pleasantly with the accompaniment of something enjoyable.’ ‘While you decide, Ayra perhaps it would be prudent to address the issues that will stem from this unfortunate turn of events,’ It seemed that she did indeed wish to discuss such matters. ‘As you know, the school has been under assault by the Dark Lord and his minions for quite some time now.

Her face grew sterner as she waxed eloquence about this apparently important seeming topic. She poured a cup of fragrant hot tea. ‘ ‘Now, to discuss a few of the points you have brought up in defense of my criticisms.’ ‘As you stated previously, that I’m such a cocky person’ ‘I believe you do have a point I may be a loud mouth at time’ Obviously the presence of mudbloods were bloody hindering awkward. Glanced through it briefly. Interestingly tedious. The fact that she had a well placed contact the point of this meeting moot, but it was necessary to keep up her façade of being concerned about her own self. Her words rolled over her in an inattentive state, as she made sounds of dissent and approval interspersed between the various comments that jumped out at her to induce the belief that she still commanded a full state of alertness. Her grey eyes focused upon her countenance as she drew herself together and straightened. ‘In fact, there are some things I wish to ask you, Ayra’ she stated. ‘Or perhaps tell you, would be a more precise term. She warmed to the subject, and gestured out the window to where the faint sounds of children playing upon the lawn could be heard through the open shutters. ‘Do you hear that, Ayra? That is the sound of children who are unafraid to venture out onto the lawns and enjoy the fact that they are able to do so. And it wasn’t achieved through the interfering ministrations of the Ministry. Unlike the aurors, they did not stride about mouthing platitudes learnt at a desk and hope that it will be enough to quell the growing fear of others. IN this case I must address aurors are just plan stupid thinking they are the best. Well let me tell you something the dark lord will have his revenge and he’s showing it little by little. Just wait and see.’ Monica sat in her seat wondering what this fifth year thought and her assumption towards the dark lord. Time will tell. She thought with a smirk on her face. Time will tell.

[aryasillhouette]

Arya laughed gently as Monica turned on her ready to attack. “If I had wanted to jinx or curse you, do you not think that I could have done it from my dark corner behind you. I would have never had to show myself to you.” She said while using the tip of her own wand to move Monica’s tip out of her face. “Bonjour Monica.” Arya said looking at the younger girl’s outstretched hand, as if it were poisonous. “ Not to be extremely rude, but I must either appear to be a male, or a dog. I do not wish to injure your feelings nor refuse your politeness but I simply do not shake hands with others.” She said calmly. Arya had been always thought that the idea of two females shaking hands seemed a bit odd. There were other ways for them to greet one another, a simple smile, a friendly hello. She never did understand the need some people felt to have to touch someone. Arya moved around the table to the other seat, and summoned her drink. “Thank you for the offer of a drink but as you can see I already have one.” She said, grabbing her drink before it hit the table.

Arya didn’t really know Monica, but she assumed nothing. Arya only knew what type of young woman she was, and that was a type not to be taken lightly. Although Arya always seemed pre-occupied with her looks, and the attention she got from them, that wasn’t entirely who she was. She was not one to take any type of insult lightly. She did not but up with much from others either. Arya never allowed anyone to disgrace her, or try to belittle her. She was better than that, and knew it and was extremely proud of it. Arya listened as Monica offered to discuss the issues that had stemmed from her little caper. As she listened, she heard Monica mention the happenings at Hogwarts. “Yes, I do know that the school has been under attack lately, and few could be happier about it than I.” She said hoping that Monica had not been trying to insinuate that Arya had not known that the Dark Lord had been having his Death Eaters attack different parts of the magical world and the muggle world including the school itself. Arya was pleased to hear of any new attack, if there was a death, it meant that it was more than likely one less half blood or mudblood, or even muggle in the world.

Arya noticed that Monica’s face had become more serious. She wondered if the girl was actually going to try to berate her for what she had said. Arya just grinned, in a way, she did not wish to fight with her fellow Slytherin, but she was not going to sit there and let herself be downsized by one’s words. Monica was now wanting to discuss what Arya had called her. Arya had meant to use the word cocky, for that was the exact way Monica came off to Arya. Arya could have chosen a million other words to describe the way Monica was acting about being able to defend herself, but cocky had been the first to come to mind, which meant that it was the way Arya truly felt. Arya looked around to notice the filth that was now walking through watching or listening in on her conversation with Monica. Arya snarled at the thought that she had to continue to sit this close to mudbloods, and half bloods. She nodded when Monica admitted to being a tidbit loud at times, for this was true. Arya arched an eyebrow at the sound of Monica saying that there were things that she wished to tell her. Arya did not like being told anything, unless it was by a professor, and only then because she had to listen to what they had to say, but that didn’t mean that once even the professors were out of sight, that she abided what they had told her.

Arya straightened more in her chair, and placed one hand on the table. The other hand, though appearing to be folded in her lap, was in fact touching her wand just incase it was needed. She stared at Monica, not daring to take her eyes off of her. Arya wondered, as Monica pointed out the sounds of the children outside playing, what it had to do with her at this moment. The fact that someone had in stowed a false sense of security in some poor children whom would meet their fate when the Dark Lord was ready for them too, had nothing to do with the fact that she had called Monica cocky. “First off,” she growled back at the younger Slytherin, trying extremely hard not to shout at her, “I am fully aware of the sounds around me. Secondly, I do not doubt that the Ministry has in stowed some type of false sense of securities in those pathetic children out in the streets. Anyone with half a mind would know that the aurors are stupid for they believe that they can catch the Dark Lord himself, knowing that if they faced him they would stand about as much of a chance as a fly against a spider. And Lastly, There is no need in you telling me that the Dark Lord is showing his powers little by little and biding his time until just the right moment to gain his revenge against anyone whom has ever doubted him or done him wrong. Neither of which I have to worry about, for I will be grateful for the day that he returns to rid this world of the Filth that contaminates it.” Arya looked at a young girl whom was in a different house and obviously muggle born, for she started shaking at the moment Arya had mentioned the Dark Lord. She had accented the word filth the way she had, so that the young girl would hear what Arya thought of her, since she was staring at the two Slytherins so much.

Arya wondered if Monica thought that everyone whom was pure would be safe once the Dark Lord returned. She knew that only those whom showed him true support would be slightly safe, but there was no guarantee that anyone would be safe.