Post by Lonan O'Ciardha on Dec 1, 2011 21:08:06 GMT -5
"Fantastical, sensual, musical, comfortable."
Lonan shuffled back and forth down an empty corridor on the seventh floor, opposite to a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet. He knew nothing of Barnabas, but the image was amusing enough to look at. After six years at Hogwarts, the Room of Requirements was no mystery to the slender young man. Decked out in gray-pinstriped black pants, swanky white suspenders around his waist and a red button up shirt with short sleeves, he might have passed for an Italian mobster from the fifties. True to his appreciation for muggle fashion, nothing he wore came from his grandfather's closet but a trendy store in France somewhere.
To make the Room appear, a person has to walk past the section of blank wall three times concentrating hard on what is needed. Today, he needed a room to hold a few hundred bodies with space to dance and lounge. Decorations, seats, tables, food and an enchanted music box with all the latest hits.
He'd sent invitations to each of the four Houses, specifically requesting attendance to those "desiring a fine night" free of worry, teachers and schoolwork. A couple dozen older students had gotten individual ones, but otherwise Lonan had spread the word amongst all the groups he knew would appreciate a good party. He didn't give a shit about inter-House rivalries, so any and all could come along at their discretion. With Lonan was a house elf - he'd agreed to hide and give "the password" to all that wanted in for the right reasons.
A door appeared; grinning wryly, Lonan smoothed down his shirt and went in. His polished shoes tapped lightly over hardwood floors, the interior lit with floating iron chandeliers with numerous candles. A muggle disco ball tickled a laugh out of the seventh year. Cozy velvet loveseats and leather couches were spread around the walls and tiny tables with bar stools filled one part of the room. Sparkling enchanted lanterns floated overhead those tables and over a long spread of fancy fruits and cheeses at the back wall, treats of all kind laid out on decadent platters. His ears were filled with song - from somewhere came the Wicked Sister's new single. He supposed the old-fashioned jukebox was the source.
"Well, this is fine~ Now to set up the mood."
Wand out, he spelled bottles of butterbeer and some sort of sparkling cider and champagne around the room, glasses floating along in their wake. Within ten minutes, several groups had already arrived, discarding their robes onto levitating coat-hangers near the door. Chatter struck up. The songs changed over. Seats were taken and plates were filled. Lonan, a glass in hand, toasted himself. To an affair on the wild side, should such free living exist within these walls.
Lonan shuffled back and forth down an empty corridor on the seventh floor, opposite to a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet. He knew nothing of Barnabas, but the image was amusing enough to look at. After six years at Hogwarts, the Room of Requirements was no mystery to the slender young man. Decked out in gray-pinstriped black pants, swanky white suspenders around his waist and a red button up shirt with short sleeves, he might have passed for an Italian mobster from the fifties. True to his appreciation for muggle fashion, nothing he wore came from his grandfather's closet but a trendy store in France somewhere.
To make the Room appear, a person has to walk past the section of blank wall three times concentrating hard on what is needed. Today, he needed a room to hold a few hundred bodies with space to dance and lounge. Decorations, seats, tables, food and an enchanted music box with all the latest hits.
He'd sent invitations to each of the four Houses, specifically requesting attendance to those "desiring a fine night" free of worry, teachers and schoolwork. A couple dozen older students had gotten individual ones, but otherwise Lonan had spread the word amongst all the groups he knew would appreciate a good party. He didn't give a shit about inter-House rivalries, so any and all could come along at their discretion. With Lonan was a house elf - he'd agreed to hide and give "the password" to all that wanted in for the right reasons.
A door appeared; grinning wryly, Lonan smoothed down his shirt and went in. His polished shoes tapped lightly over hardwood floors, the interior lit with floating iron chandeliers with numerous candles. A muggle disco ball tickled a laugh out of the seventh year. Cozy velvet loveseats and leather couches were spread around the walls and tiny tables with bar stools filled one part of the room. Sparkling enchanted lanterns floated overhead those tables and over a long spread of fancy fruits and cheeses at the back wall, treats of all kind laid out on decadent platters. His ears were filled with song - from somewhere came the Wicked Sister's new single. He supposed the old-fashioned jukebox was the source.
"Well, this is fine~ Now to set up the mood."
Wand out, he spelled bottles of butterbeer and some sort of sparkling cider and champagne around the room, glasses floating along in their wake. Within ten minutes, several groups had already arrived, discarding their robes onto levitating coat-hangers near the door. Chatter struck up. The songs changed over. Seats were taken and plates were filled. Lonan, a glass in hand, toasted himself. To an affair on the wild side, should such free living exist within these walls.
