Four Squared {Stephen}

[Noah Hamilton-Blue G6]

It was absolutely freezing. A breath inside the castle could be seen clearly, and as Noah trudged towards the Student Lounge he pondered over this fact rather absently. It looked as if everyone in the castle had suddenly taken up the awful habit of chain-smoking. If that were the case Hogwarts would be pretty much endorsing lung cancer and early death. Instantly at the slightest thought of cancer Noah's mind shot to an aspect of his life he did his best to avoid thinking of. His parents or, more specifically, his mother, came into his head. He understood that Bree Hamilton-Blue did have cancer, though the form of her illness and the stage he knew nothing about; his sister Ariel had never been one to be very helpful when it came to fairly important matters. And Noah still had no idea if he thought the information important. He had no clue whether or not his parents were important. At the end of the day, was anything particularly important, really? Was it important to have important things?
A frown creased the Gryffindor's head and he bit the inside of his mouth sharply, wincing as the taste of blood specked his tongue. Desperately his mind grasped around for anything else to hold on to; anything to distract him. Noah hated thinking negative or exaggerated thoughts for more than a moment. It made him feel funny.

Shivering as he finally reached the top step of the staircase outside the Student Lounge, Noah paused. His hand remained on the polished banister as he glanced over his own body momentarily. He took in everything - from the clean tips of his own brown leather shoes (footwear his parents would have thrown him out of the house for) to the identical string bracelets, one on each wrist. He loved his Gryffindor robes for being so simple, though always had to dig his fingernails into his palms when he noted how asymmetrical they were; if only he could have the Gryffindor emblem on both breasts. Taking a quick breath, Noah walked the few steps to the wide door of the Student Lounge and pushed it open gently.

Normally Noah made a point to avoid the Lounge. It was busy, loud and he never knew where to look or how to respond when people asked him odd little questions that they clearly didn't want to ask anyway. But he was supposed to be in Herbology, and although Noah didn't make a point of missing lessons, he sometimes made an exception for Herbology. It was just too boring. Professor Longbottom didn't seem to mind though; Noah knew that the former Gryffindor student got a little irritated when Noah took ten minutes to do a simple task. Though it wasn't Noah's fault he knew that many teachers preferred it without the constant delays, so was more than happy to grant Longbottom some alone time with the rest of the class.

As a result of most of the lower years being busy in classes the Lounge was fairly quiet. A fire roared in the wall opposite the door, filling the room with a comfortable heat. Noah allowed the warmth to envelope him entirely as he slowly unwrapped his woolen scarf from around his neck. He moved carefully through the tables and armchairs aimlessly, not quite knowing where he wanted to sit. He didn't have any specific piece of work to complete as he was fairly up to date with all of his homework, but he had a good book on Quidditch mechanics he was interesting in finishing that morning.

Nearing the tables close to the spitting fire, Noah took a right past an armchair without looking at the floor; consequently tripping over a bag sprawled carelessly over the carpet. He threw out a hand to steady himself but instead of this resulting in him controlling the situation, his palm knocked against a small pot of ink. The thick black liquid spilt instantly and began to drip down the leg of the table, leaving dense stains in it's wake.

"Oh, no! No... Oh, man." Noah had his wand out in second. Stabbing it through the air in the direction of the pool of black ink, he hastily spat out the cleaning charm - several times.
"Scourgify. Scourgify. Scourgify. Scourgify." A flick of his wand, and the liquid began to disappear.
"Scourgify. Scourgify. Scourgify, scourgify..." Another flick. The ink could no longer be seen.
"Scourgify, scourgify, scourgify, scourgify." His voice now barely a whisper, Noah frowned at the spot where the pool had been and gave his wand one last fierce flourish.
"Scourgify... scourgify, scourgify, scourgify! There." Done he thought in his mind, satifisfied at last. Tucking his wand carefully away, Noah took a deep breath - the first proper breath since the ink had spilt - and took a hasty glance around the room.

He had thought no-one had seen his tumble, but he had been wrong. As his eyes cast around for a spectator they tried to avoid the armchair closest to the fire just behind Noah; he already knew someone was sitting there. Tucking his chin against his chest, Noah threw an almost fervant look at the pale figure in the armchair.
"Oh..." He muttered. "Hello Donahue.... Was that your ink?"



{Comparing their bios and personalities, both have connections to psychological illnesses, and both feel free and devoid of worry when on a broom and in the air. Just thought I'd throw that link out there. xD Don't eat my baby, he's only a newborn!~}

[Stephen Donahue S7]

((I will try to keep him from hurting him.))

The Student Lounge wasn’t Stephen’s favorite place to be. In fact it was usually the bane of existence, so why he had stumbled into the room was anyone’s guess. The moment his body pulled through the door silence descended among the few students that were inside. Their eyes watched him wearily. It was something that made Stephen smirk. The way they’d follow him, watching his every move. He scared them more than ever…he was sure of it. He found it all rather amusing though and that’s why he visited the Student Lounge every once and a while. To remind the student body that he was still here, that they hadn’t kicked him out like the rumor said. Only the sixth years really knew that for a fact…but still they hoped every time the rumor was heard that it was true. His form moved through the room, every time his eyes met that of another’s they’d look away hurriedly and he laughed in his head. It wasn’t until he got to the chair in front of the fire that his father’s image appeared. He waved it off. He didn’t have the time or the energy to listen to it. Of course that was easier said than done. A part of him had started to believe that his father was more alive than he was and in truth that wasn’t completely wrong. His father’s memory had taken on a life of its own, sucking what was left of Stephen’s soul out of his own body. Not that Stephen wouldn’t even notice. He was too stone cold for that.

Taking a seat he dropped his bag down beside the chair. He had little use for the contents of the bag. Studying wasn’t something he did very often. He had natural talent. It didn’t matter whether or not he went to class; the information was the same no matter what you did. Most of the time he went…merely because boredom was more annoying to him than anything. At least in class he could listen to what the teacher was going on about and it startled his classmates, which was even more amusing. Sometimes if he was lucky even the teacher would be afraid of him. It just depended on how he moved and where he sat. There were usually always empty seats around him. Not many wanted to sit next to Stephen Donahue…the kid that had killed his father and had done untold horrors to people that got in his way.

Of course that didn’t stop people from not paying attention. Stephen had finally moved, pulled out an ink jar, quill, even parchment. It had been just to pass the time, but then some idiot had the decency to trip right over his bag. The idiots hand hit the pot of ink, knocking it over spilling its contents all over the table and slowly down the leg. Stephen fought the urge to use his wand on the idiot. Some people just couldn’t learn from being tortured, as much as that pained Stephen. Torture was the one thing he turned to when people were annoying him. You could live with a man all your life and talk on every subject known to wizard, but it wasn’t until you held that man over the volcanoes edge that you met the true man. It was something that Stephen knew deep in his core and that’s why his dark eyes raised to the boy. He knew him…had enough classes with him to know his name, but that didn’t excuse him from his idiocy. Though Stephen found it quite amusing how many times the kid had to flick his wand at the liquid. As if the first time hadn’t been good enough. The kid was obsessive…how amusing.

Stephen looked up at the figure, his cold eyes not finding any amusement in the situation. There was no forgiveness there and there was no way he was going to let the kid sit near him. “And if it was my ink what would you do about it? Offer a simple apology? Buy me a new bottle? Offer to let you borrow yours? To have yours? That wouldn’t even cover the cost if that bottle of ink were mine. Of course you must have thought about that didn’t you? Or are you that thick headed?” Stephen was still sitting in the chair, his fingers pressed together in front of him. He had a four o’clock shadow on his face. It was apparent he hadn’t shaved in days and didn’t have any intention to do so either. Somehow Stephen had found a spot where the light barely touched his face, keeping him mostly in shadow…and that’s how he liked it as he stared up at Noah. He flipped his hand over so his palm was facing up. “I’ll take that bottle of ink now.”