› Familiar [f a c e s];;empty places, Open

[Nicolette Davies]

Nicolette gazed at her potions homework blankly, kind of like she gazed at most things, with a vacant expression permanently residing on her face when it came down to anything to do with homework, or classwork. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't keep still for long enough to get her brain to focus on the task at hand, it wasn't even as if she didn't want to do just that. She physically couldn't. Even as she sat here now, she could see the soft spiral of light from the enchanted windows, the discarded, glossy Witch Weekly magazine taunting her by peeping out of her bag. There were too many distractions, even down here in the dungeons. Why was the Hufflepuff common room down here anyway? For one, they were with those Slytherins, who were so far up their own arses, they couldn't tell what time of day it was, and two, it was all so...dark and gloomy right now. Weren't Hufflepuffs meant to be high spirited, or something like that? Nic supposed that it may have something to do with their house symbol being the badger, and the fact the badger lived underground. Still, it didn't make sense, and it definitely wasn't fair; in the summer it was boiling, and in the winter you had to walk around with several layers of clothing on to avoid hypothermia. She swore the Slytherins were only so collected and calm - and not freezing - in winter, because they were so cold all the time, to anyone who making friends with couldn't get them anywhere.

It was bad enough that they had to share air space with them in some of their lessons. It was something that she shouldn't really be thinking, this fierce house pride, but it came as second nature to her. Another thing that annoyed her was the fact Hufflepuffs seemed to be the very bottom of the food chain. It appeared to her that their house was for the people who didn't really fit into any other, who weren't witty and smart, brave and loyal, or cunning and sly. Yes, she knew she was stupid...and blonde for that matter, but the 'dumb-blonde' jokes, made by half of the Slytherin girls and the majority of the rest of Hogwarts' population were beginning to grow old and tired. Stupid she may have been, but she did have feelings. I mean, it wasn't as if she went around parading her dumbness to anyone prepared to have a conversation with her, proudly professing that she 'couldn't be bothered' with Hogwarts. She was glad she'd had a chance of coming here, she just...couldn't grasp it. Sometimes, she wondered if this was the right place for her, among all these intelligent and wonderfully talented people. What was she really, other than a pretty face?

She snuggled back into the comfort of the armchair, finally surrendering and putting her homework back into her bag, pulling out the magazine which had been singing advertisements to at her for the last ten minutes. Something about a free hair-cut, see the asterisk for details...when you spend twenty galleons in store. What a bargain. Not. Nic wanted someone or something to relieve her boredom. As we've established, sitting still and keeping quiet is not a forté of hers. She either wanted to be flirting or talking - conversation kept things light and interesting. Sitting here on your own, or at least without the rest of the first year stragglers which appeared to be joining her today, was no fun. She was a Hufflepuff who wanted to be hyperactive, if that wasn't an invitation...she didn't know what was.

[Marcos Montague]

It was a nice day out, the orb known as the sun sparkled with an enchanting lure all around it. The sky was a nice light blue and everything seemed to be perfect, at least when looking out across the grounds of Hogwarts. However, the youngest Montague boy didn’t get to see it since he was still in stupid Herbology class. It was fine, the class, he’d barely get by in it, but it wasn’t as if he thoroughly enjoyed growing things, unless it was the kind that you could sell for a profit or ingest for fun. He was in detention. One of the younger students had fully thrown dirt at him and in retaliation had thrown compost at the kid’s head. Only the latter action was recognized by the professor. Stupid professor! It was definitely…well…not self defense, but it wasn’t his fault. At least the kid should have gotten a little bit of detention. So, he was spending an extra hour after class with a toothbrush cleaning the greenhouses’ entire expanse of the floor. It was a real bitch too because it there was so much damn dirt. He really wanted to pull out his wand and clean it that way, but Marcos wasn’t about to take a shortcut only a few minutes in. However, as the clock slowly passed on by, knees aching, dirt crawling into paces he didn’t want to know about, and sweat was trickling down random patches of skin, he whipped out his wand and made the clean sparkly, only slightly though. He was going to start smelling sooner or later, probably a little later then sooner, but that didn’t matter. Smelling and getting horribly dirty wasn’t something he enjoyed, unless grease and oil because that was sexy.

Finally being able to leave, he threw his jacket over his shoulder, grabbed the books that barely got opened, and started walking toward the school. The walk seemed to last forever even though the greenhouses were closer then anything else outside on the grounds. It was kind of pathetic that he should be sore after only an hour or so considering the big guy had done things that required much heavier heavy lifting. Lugging around a motorcycle wasn’t an easy picnic that was for sure. It was the position of being on hands and knees for so long. It could be a good position for other things, but cleaning a floor wasn’t what it was made for. Marc was just kind of tired altogether, wanting nothing more then to go down to a pub in Hogsmeade and kick back a few with friends or pretty girls. As he made his way down the stairs into the dungeons, eyes adjusted to the dimness, some of the snakes stopped to hiss at him. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins shouldn’t mix so why had they put the houses down there while Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had it easy up in the towers. They at least didn’t freeze to death or die of dehydration, and they had quite a view of the stars. The dungeons didn’t even have any stupid windows, except fake structures that looked like one. What a cruel joke that was.

Muttering the stupid password, he walked into the Hufflepuff Common Room. While doing so, one of his hands easily loosened the yellow and black tie, letting it hang like a very loose noose around his neck. Throwing his books on a nearby table, he plopped his body into one of the soft chairs, a fire roaring in the fireplace. It always seemed that there was a fire just because his housemates didn’t enjoy freezing to death. When winter swung around it could be a real bitch. Finally kind of realizing he was in the common room where there tended to be more then one person, dark eyes darted automatically to the hot girl sitting in the chair. It was one Nicolette Davies. She was well talked about for her beauty and some of the things she did. Why wouldn’t he want to talk about her (only good things) or stare at her? A smirk crept over his lips as his eyes took her in. “Hey, Nic. Having fun?” he asked as his head nodded toward the magazine. Truthfully, she didn’t look like she was having all that fun. Maybe Marcos would change that.

[Nicolette Davies]

Nicolette was becoming increasingly engrossed in an article about some witch who'd dreamed of starting her own band, sung once in The Dancing Cat in London, and been spotted by a muggle talent-scout. God, the woman was possibly even more dense than Nicolette was, she thought to herself, as she read it. Nicolette had no problems acknowledging that she was stupid, it came as less of a blow when people chose to insult her with that particular barb, if she got used to however...ditzy she happened to be. Another insult they seemed fixated on at the moment was 'whore', or 'slag', or something similar. There was a apparently some crazy rumour flying around about her having had three abortions in her time here at Hogwarts. It wasn't that she minded, because, all in all, she'd made her bed and now she had to lay in it. She knew that she'd slept around, she did, but it still didn't stop it hurting when she walked through the hallways and girls started snickering and glancing at her abdomen. There was only so much resilience she had, and sooner or later, it'd all come tumbling down. However, if all these conflicting emotions inside her head - yes folks, that is brain activity - did result in a mini-nervous mental breakdown, people would think she wanted their sympathy. She didn't. She knew what she'd done and the reputation she'd carved out for herself, but just because she was a little...free, it didn't mean she was stupid when it came to contraceptives. She used something every time, and if he refused then it was a no go area. It was insulting to her common sense that they thought she'd be so irresponsible. That nearly made Nicolette laugh.

She looked up to find Marcos Montague staring back at her. Ah, here was a boy with a reputation...and possibly a personality. Everyone in this god damned common room was brain-dead anyway. Yes, this was hypocritical of her, but just because she was a little on the stupid side, didn't mean she couldn't have fun. In fact, she loved being a mischief maker. She couldn't recall having a proper conversation with Marcos, but he must have met her at some student party or another, because he certainly seemed to know her name, and indeed, know of her, judging by the smirk he was wearing. This she didn't mind, she could handle teenage boys, and currently, he wasn't looking as if he wanted something. Nicolette knew from past experience that this could all change, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now. "Hi...Marcos, I do believe."

He was implying that she found her magazine 'fun', or interesting, even in the slightest. He had read her correctly, all things considered. The expression on her face had been one of slight interest, but it was fast fading to a cheeky smirk. Nic didn't need to ask exactly how he knew her. Asking him, if they'd ever...you know, did linger on the tip of his tongue. The other downside to being a whore, of course, would be that she'd probably never get a steady boyfriend, unless someone was willing to look past the fact she slutted around more than a little. She actually would be a good girlfriend, she was good at sex (About one of the only things), she'd listen, nod and smile correctly, and if there was a conversation topic she felt comfortable and confident discussing, she'd join in quite vehemently. It was just, nobody could trust her. Fidelity actually wasn't an issue with her, she didn't have any problem committing to any one person, people just got the idea that she feared it. Not that Nicolette could blame them. [color=]"No, not really. How are you so late in here?"[/color] She asked, patting the seat beside her on the sofa. Yes, we've established she'd not backwards in coming forward. Build a bridge, and get over it. She was bored, and any company was better than the chess nerds guffawing over in the corner. In actual fact, she was jealous. Chess confused her...as did most things.

[Marcos Montague]

The vision of her imprinted itself into his head, not that he really needed to do that since he could easily recall almost any girl in the school. The prettier ones were almost hard to remember because they blended so well into the next pretty girl while those looking normal were the most unique. But that didn’t stop the boy from wanting to screw the pretty girl. While those normal girls had specifically unique personalities were fun to hang out with, they were those that you wanted to date. He didn’t want to date any of them he had met, well, kind of anyway. He’d been a player and was good at it. While finding true love would be an extraordinary thing to find and something he’d like to find, at age sixteen it wasn’t something he believed he was destined to find. Oh how he longed for a woman to bicker with, to want to please, to be impressed by the littlest of details, to get lost in her eyes, and listen to her because he wanted to know everything that she had done that day, was thinking, and to just look at the way the certain someone’s lips would move as they spoke. So far, life hadn’t brought Marcos a girl that had caused him to trip and fall in love. It was a dream for the young man to find a girl that would make him the happiest he had ever been. Sliding a diamond ring on the finger of a woman would make him feel completely ecstatic because that meant that she would except him for his past endeavors (ie women), how he could be a great grease monkey, and the way that nothing seemed to stop him.

“That’s me,” he said reassuringly. He had never really sat down and had a chat with the woman. It wasn’t out of fear that he might end up in bed with her or what others might say just for being around her, but just because he seemed to be everywhere else except the common room. He knew of her just because he had that way of memorizing all of the Hufflepuffs’ names and usually their year. They could have worn name tags though just for his own personal use because some of them blended in together, even some of the Weasleys. They were a horrible bunch to keep track of, at least with their names. All those freckles and red-heads, it was insane hard to keep up. Rumors didn’t bother the guy because so many had been spread about him; he slept with women because he was actually a closeted homosexual, he was incapable of love, he had shot a man, liked to wear female clothes, and so much more shit that it just rolled off of him anymore. Marc knew the shit Nicolette could be put through and how she fought it. She was an incredible girl that was for sure. They could both understand the other’s predicaments. So many girls could be put off with some of those rumors that it was hormone-breaking. On the other hand, he had the charm to fully make up for it all.

As she patted the seat next to her, he tried not to smile. It was sexy when she did it and she wasn’t even really trying to be, or so he thought. Walking over there, he took the seat next to her, sitting fairly close – nothing far away that would make people wonder and not so close where he was on top of her, just enough to show he was comfortable with her. With that next question, he scoffed and rolled those smoldering eyes of his remember the idiotic reason into which the guy had gotten detention. “I had detention. Some kid threw dirt at me, I retaliated, but I got caught. I had to clean the whole floor with a toothbrush. I got sick of that so I used magic and got the hell out of there.” Pointing to the dirt on the his robes and arms and the sporadic bead of sweat, he continued on, “Hence the dirt and sweat.” It was liable that she would have thought that he had just been out having a quickie in the grass. That sounded a whole lot better then detention. But then again, girls did find it much more bad ass getting detention then fooling around with some other girl. “What are you up to?” Not the most original, but it would give him props for wondering.

[Nicolette Davies]

He was handsome in a...young, fresh sort of way. And yet, as he sat here, thee was something older about him, suggesting he was marginally more mature. It was lot to ask for in a boy, Nicolette knew this, but it was worth hoping, wasn't it? All she usually got was a snort, an elbow in the ribs, and a sweaty hand going for her (Severely underwhelming...at least in her opinion) breasts. It wasn't pleasant, but it was what her label had suggested, over the years. It was expected for her to go along with it. No, she didn't think it right to wind up a boy incessantly and then just...drop him. It was unfair. People seemed to forget that Nicolette's hormones were raging just like anybody else's, and it got to a certain point where she was unable to walk away - not because she was worried about preserving her reputation. Besides, who gave two shits about what the other girls had to say about her? Nicolette did care what the people who mattered viewed her as, but the close friends she did have were very few and far between. The people who cared, and who valued her for whatever she did, or situation she got into, knew that she wasn't quite as slutty as people liked to make out. Sure, she got around a lot a little, but she was always careful. And it wasn't just boys she'd met out of the blue. She had regular sex buddies. God she was safe, god she was oversexed. God, she really needed to get a steady boyfriend.

He seemed to be watching her, but she'd learned over the years that this was something young men particularly liked to do, if only to feel their hormone oppressed brain. It was slightly sad, Nicolette thought, that most of them were dominated by the brain in their pants. When they actually took the time to be nice, almost gentlemanly, they could be quite interesting. Marcos was interesting, if the rumours about him were true. Somehow, she couldn't quite place him as a cross dressing homosexual, who was secretly having an affair with Jackson Krum, or something along those lines. Nicolette wasn't really one for gossip, unless it was about someone she really didn't like. Usually, if she was feeling particularly bitchy, she'd start it, and wait for the shit to start to fly. It was fun, to be in the middle of the chaos. It gave the brain a chance to work, some sort of exercise. A chance Nicolette's brain didn't get all that often. Pity really. If she had the brains and the beauty, she could knock them dead. As for now, she'd probably just have to stick to common sense, which she seemed to have sufficient amounts of. Otherwise, she may have been run over by a bus by now.

“I had detention. Some kid threw dirt at me, I retaliated, but I got caught. I had to clean the whole floor with a toothbrush. I got sick of that so I used magic and got the hell out of there. Hence the dirt and sweat.” Nic laughed sweetly, the image of someone else actually cleaning was funny. Right now, she was pretty much a domesticaphobe. Not that she wanted to be, her dorm room was a pig-sty, but that didn't make her want to clean. It made her want to yell at someone else to do it. "Yeah, nice." She rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking that that didn't sound nice at all. She hoped he wasn't as stupid as her, and wouldn't know what sarcasm was. No, she wasn't quite that brain dead, though if you looked inside of her head there'd be a lot of static in there. She was concentrating too hard on what to say yet. She was, however, completely relaxed with this situation, and the fact he'd gone for the 'safe distance apart' seating plan. The classic boy move. It made her smile some more, and then frown in quick succession at her ability to read boys, before schooling her face into a prettier expression. "Attempting to do homework, believe it or not. That didn't really work out too well." She gestured towards the various sheaths of parchment strewn across the desk, and various versions of her name scrawled in pink ink, enchanted to appear 'glittery'. Fluffy and pink, most definitely. A surprise that herbology was her favourite subject, really.