Molly Stone

I want your midnights

6 posts in this topic

Molly only had a sleepover once before, and it wasn't anything like how she pictured it. A camp out would actually be a more accurate description, as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were outside in a merged tent, and it ended with lava at Petey's hand. Hopefully this one wouldn't be as big of a disaster.

 

Come Saturday evening, she crept under wandlight to the trophy room, a large blanket draped over her shoulders and pillows stuffed into her bag. The corridors were black except for the dampening golden-orange of torches, and her steps were soft and quiet, knowing how late she'd arranged this. 9 P.M. to be exact, but Molly had read up on Vampires after finding out about Clay and knew they flourished in the night-time. She wanted to be considerate. 

 

She arrived ten minutes early to set up the pillows and blankets in a cozy corner, to light candles that caused her hair to glow so Clayton could fix it, if he pleased. She brought a brush, but that was about all the hair supplies she owned - if he wanted to do something fancy, he could bring it himself.

 

"Hi," she grinned as he walked in, first noticing his shadow before the figure honed in. His footsteps weren't exactly loud, but they echoed calmly in the chilling quiet. "D'you like the ambiance?" She gestured to the candles. Her voice wasn't a whisper, but it was quieter than usual. "I'm kind of new to this sleepover thing, and we may need more blankets. Sit," she beckoned. "I have loads of questions."

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Clayton had quite a long train of items gently floating behind him as he wandered the halls. He knew if he had forgotten anything he could simply grab them and return, though he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. As he rounded to the trophy room he was already met with Molly who had beaten him there, smiling as she greeted him.

 

"Hello." He responded to the girl as he slowly finished magically roping in some blankets, pillows, and two bags worth of his belongings as he gently placed them off to the side of the room. Clayton's eyes scanned the walls as he tried to take in all the awards. He nodded when Molly asked how the ambiance was. "It's quite lovely. I've not been in this room before today." He never had a need to be there. The fourth year was awfully busy this year.

 

The girl told him to sit, which caused Clayton to pause, before slowly reaching into his pocket. "I'll stand for now." He told her before slowly removing a small article clipped from a newspaper. He glanced down at it as the girl said she had plenty of questions. Clayton's attention moved towards a wall littered with graffiti. He slowly walked towards it and paused as he stared at the large eyed boy on the cut-out of the newspaper he held. He supposed he could bring it up after Molly got her original questions out of the way.

 

"I'm sure I've plenty of answers. What is it you wish to know first?" His back was facing the girl, Clayton felt it would be much easier to answer the obvious questions she would have at first if he wasn't sitting close and looking her in the eye quite yet. He needed something to distract himself with, and he didn't want to waltz in demanding to have his way with her hair at first. It seemed rude.

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"Yeah," she grinned. Molly couldn't say the same, however, as one of the first things she'd done as an ickle was memorize the names of the recipients of previous dueling tournament trophies. "One of the trophies in here is mine, from the Tournament of Champions last year. It's not a big deal, it was just bronze," Molly shrugged. "But I guess it's pretty cool?" 

 

“I’ll stand for now.”

Molly nodded, sinking deeper into the cushioned blankets, her legs now splayed in the cotton, lizard-speckled pajama shorts she wore. “Suit yourself.” Her gaze was following him, marking him, however, as he moved toward a graffiti-littered wall. She was more interested in whatever he held in his hand. “What’s that?” she queried, pointing.

 

Clayton was rather dramatic. Molly sort of related him to a character in a movie, the way everything he said seemed to hold a weight, an underlying meaning, his actions so precise. Maybe that's why she kind of liked him -- she'd always liked films. He wouldn’t sit with her to answer questions -- he would stand with his back turned. He seemed determined to keep himself at a distance.

 

“You’re weird,” Molly blurted out. “Why?” She shook her head, flustered for a moment before abruptly composing herself. “I mean.. okay, never mind, ignore that. That was rude of me. Hell, weird isn’t a bad thing but…”

She sighed. “..so when did you, er, turn?”


Edited by Molly Stone

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"Tournament of Champions?" Clayton asked, his brow raising slightly as he realized all the littering on the wall was from past students who didn't want to be forgotten about. "I've not heard of it. Which sport was it?" He asked the girl, though he quickly realized how it may have been a piece of a competition instead of a sport with a name like that. Molly would have plenty of time to explain.

 

He tilted his head, finishing up the last statements he read from the students. Most were painfully cheesy. Others were awfully short. He could spend all night reading those statements. “What’s that?” He shrugged his shoulders as he faced the girl again, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms.

 

"I'll show you in a moment." He promised. Though her next question knocked him right off the rails. Weird. He knew he was weird. Clayton glanced away from her, breaking that eye contact Atticus always insisted Clayton keep with everyone. An intense gaze that made them know you were the one in charge of the conversation. He couldn't help it though. He pushed away from the wall, gently running his fingers along the brick as he moved towards the girl, lightly dropping the piece of paper once he came closer to the girl. He had a few, but that one would be best to start with. The headline alone would allow her to understand his life had never been average.

 

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“..so when did you, er, turn?”

 

"I was six. Sitting against the base of a tree. Someone had me with them who had business with a cult of vampires. So they told me to stay put until they returned." It had been a chilly night. Clayton remembered how bored he was poking against the leaves he sat upon. "And shortly after, I remember being thrown to the ground and feeling an immense amount of pain. I only remember pain, then the stunning spell being screamed." Clayton paused. "Then I woke in bed next to my mum. She told me I had died." He reached into his pocket and pulled another few pieces of paper, sorting through them as he looked for a specific one.

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"It wasn't a sport, exactly," Molly began. "It was a special tournament they had last year.. you know, while you were off at Durmstrang.. instead of the Quidditch cup and dueling tournament. Basically, there were originally eight teams that competed in three tasks. A couple teams were eliminated per each task until one winner took the cup. My team, Crystal Skull, was one of the three in the finals, but we got third," she explained. Molly blamed Bryony, but she was biased.

 

The Gryffindor retrieved the dropped piece of parchment, skimming -- albeit thoroughly -- gaze sliding back and forth at breakneck speed. The boy in the sheet, she immediately noticed, resembled Clayton, although not sharply as he actually had hair. Still, there was no doubting who it was, and as the words aligned with the picture, Molly abruptly dropped the paper and her mouth fell open.

 

Molly thought she'd seen it all.

 

"You were a professional flier? That young?" She looked at him with awe, with a newfound admiration. She wasn't one to get "star-struck," but this was incredible! "Among.. among Vampires." Molly added. "Man! That's so cool! You've gotta teach me some of your moves, I've just made the Quidditch team this year and I want to prove I'm good, the best. Oh, are you playing for Slytherin?" she wondered, although she hoped he wasn't as she realized that'd make it really hard to defeat the house. "Or are Hogwarts teams a bit pedestrian for you?"

 

Molly's mind sparked with about a thousand more questions, but she withheld them to listen to his story.

 

"Wow," she said again when he finished. "So.. but I thought Vampires didn't age? And I guess your diet isn't solely blood, obviously.. do you a pamphlet?" She wondered as she noticed the new pile of papers he'd revealed.

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Clayton's brow rose slightly as Molly explained the tournament. Now that sounded interesting. Much more so than a yearly Quidditch cup. "To participate in such a tourny as a first year. Molly, you never cease to amaze me." He slowly moved towards one of his bags, his fingers wriggling their way through the objects inside. "You'll have to tell me what some of the tasks were. Perhaps we could re-create one." He hummed gently, giving the moment as Molly looked at the paper he had landed in front of her.

 

His fingers finally grabbed hold of the brush which he gently placed on the ground next to his bag. A few more objects were put down next to the hairbrush as he glanced in her direction. "Not a professional. If I were still on that path, I would be training so I could qualify for my first professional race soon. They were just competitions when I was a child." He tried to clear that up, obviously, he had never been making money. Genevieve dumped so much money into Clayton he almost felt bad about it. He made mere pennies from the few photoshoots he did for his sponsors and people who wanted to endurance him. Usually the most he got was discounted or free goods to wear, use, and talk about when he was in front of the press.

 

He placed his tongue against the inner section of his sharpened tooth. "I would be happy to show you some things I've picked up over the years, though I am not a team player. I never have been." He said gently picking up the objects from the ground as he moved closer to Molly. "I will never be a part of any team. Though I do not look down on any students who can play Quidditch. It's an admirable sport, of course. If only I could let you borrow one of my custom brooms for the games."

 

He circled his finger in front of Molly's face. "Spin round. Let me start what I do best." He purposely avoided the question about anything to do with being a vampire. He needed a few moments to figure how he was even meant to word it.

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