The Pawn{O}

[swaiva valerie hamilton]

S. V. Hamilton

[/color]

It was a chilly day, even for Autumn. Fresh gusts of swooped over her body as she walked past the open stone windows. At least she had decided not to do her hair up elaborately as she sometimes did. Her dark brown hair was smoothed back into an elegant low ponytail, with a piece of hair hiding the elastic from view. The strands that were too short to fit with the ponytail hung around her face, framing it. Of course, her hair was slightly messy after an entire day of school. She held a pile of papers to her chest, notes, homework, etc. Her face was placated, smooth and lovely as ever, but her eyes were hard and cold, just like the wind blowing outside. She began thumbing through her papers as she walked, looking for the transfiguration essay that was due in two days.

She didn't look up as she came to the huge wooden doors that kept the sounds of screaming firsties out of the library. She merely reached out and turned the door handle, without looking or stopping. Her walk was so fluid and confident, anything but understated. Only once she was inside and the door closed did she look up. She quickly began walking towards an open table towards the back of the library. After glaring at a third-year that had almost got there before her, she laid down her burden on the smooth wooden surface. "Revision, revision, revision", she murmured. It felt like they had been going over the same things they'd all learned in fourth or fifth-year. Sighing, she ran her fingers over the backs of the T section until she found the book she needed, then made herself comfortable at her chosen desk and found her notes.

Her parchment made crinkling noises as she pulled a few sheets out of her brand new dragon-skin school bag. Those were followed by a bottle of black ink and a handsome sapphire blue quill. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, like a diver getting ready to jump off of the diving board. She dipped the point of her quill into the ink and off she went. Scribbling away in her elegant script. Pausing only think and to re-ink her quill. Homework was boring but not hard. She'd never had trouble with anything, her worst mark in an exam being an A. It didn't take her long at all to reach the required length. But she wasn't done yet. She wrote enough for one and a half essays. She leaned back in her chair to admire her work.

She was reading through it one more time, making a few corrections. She wanted an O for this. An E would be okay but not good enough. She liked to push herself, to see what she could do and how hard she had to try. She was finished completely way before the time limit she had given herself. She put the work back into her bag. Well, maybe she would finish off that Dark Arts homework. But that class never felt like home work, it was more like a hobby, and the topic just made it all the more fun. The unforgivable curses. She had already gone way over the limit. She could leave it as it was and still get an O. Or maybe she could add some more over the weekend. She didn't really feel like more homework right then. Instead, she leaned back into her seat and people-watched, chuckling as a Hufflepuff got yelled at by the librarian for who-knows-what.

notes; My muse for her is coming back slowly.
words; 600
outfit; school uniform (slytherin)