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Post by ALISTAIR ELIJAH MACMILLAN on Aug 5, 2012 19:29:44 GMT
 IT’S HEAVY IT’S ON MY MIND• you say that you feel just fine he's racking •AND STACKING YOUR LINES Alistair didn’t feel great. His head was pounding a steady rhythm on and on, a persistent thudding drum beat that he thought would never stop; it would simply carry on until his brain exploded from his skull. His stomach was churning, his liver in overdrive trying to clear his body of the many toxins that he had put into his body last night. The worst of it all wasn’t that he was suffering the worst hangover in the history of the world; the worst part of it was that today was Thursday. A school day. Alistair Macmillan had gotten drunk on a Wednesday night, spilled his darkest thoughts, fears and secrets to some poor random person whose face he could not remember let alone their name on a night in the middle of the week. It was unheard of; Alistair took school very seriously he had high hopes of achieving straight O's and so the reason for Alistair's mini-break down was that he had failed an essay. Failed.
Al was certain that he had never failed anything before in his life. It had been a strange feeling at first. He'd thought it was a mistake, had held back at the end of the lesson to ask his professor if the D had just been written wrong, after all there was only a straight line separating a capital D from an O. It was possible. But it wasn't the case and the professor then proceeded to inform him of everything that was wrong about his work. It had been very humiliating but they had been right, it was a shoddy piece of work, the 'could do a lot better' note completely true. He had wondered all night as he drained bottle after bottle of beer what it was that had distracted him and caused him to hand in such an awful piece of work. He just couldn't put his finger on it. To most people, failing an essay wasn't that important, particularly one that didn't count towards a final grade but for this Ravenclaw who prided himself upon his intelligence and put academic studies first, it was the end of the world.
He was aware of all of this as his eyes fluttered open. It was still dark; a crack of light shining in from under the door. He went to push himself up off of his bed and it was then that he realised he was not tucked up in bed in his dormitory. He was lying on hard wood and now aware that his back was aching along with his head. He groaned; his brain still fuzzy from alcohol and sleep to completely comprehend what was going on or where he was. He thought for a moment he might be dreaming but the pain he felt all over was much too vivid and real for his imagination to imitate. He lifted himself up, and found he could lean against more solid wood. For one wild moment he thought he was in a coffin. He stretched out his legs; his feet making contact with something, knocking it over and the sound of plastic hitting wood made his head swell agonisingly. He slowly leaned forward, groping for the shape and realising in the darkness that his eyes were slowly growing accustomed to that it was a bucket.
He blinked several times before cautiously getting to his feet, swaying a little and then hitting his head on the ceiling. ”Owww!” He cried out, cursing loudly as well as his head protested with several long, painful throbs, spinning as well now he reached forward, pushing at what he now assumed was the door to the broom closet he had chosen to sleep in. (Why he had thought that was a good idea he had no idea). But with horror he realised it was locked. He rattled it again and again until the sound grew unbearable and he sunk to the floor, resting his head against the cool wood, a croaky, ”Help.” leaving his lips. Locked in a broom cupboard Alistair, great. Just bloody great.
WORDS ! 600 odd
LYRICS ! calm down dearest by Jamie T
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! - - -
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Post by MINERVA CORNELIA MCGONAGALL on Aug 6, 2012 1:31:59 GMT
 I NEED ANOTHER STORY. SOMETHING TO GET OFF MY CHEST.I'M GONNA GIVE ALL MY SECRETS AWAY.TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR. SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE THOSE YEARS.------------------------------------------------------------------Turning forty one wasn't the easiest thing for Minerva Cornelia McGonagall. For some reason just having one year tacked onto the forty bothered her, and she didn't know why. Not many things managed to get under her skin, but the idea of getting old wasn't something she accepted easily. She was a woman of action, spunk, and energy, and the thought of losing the ability to run around or fight back didn't take well. It didn't help that her friends insisted on throwing her a huge party to 'celebrate.' Even if it was her special day Min was not one for being the center of attention, and the whole party thing made her slightly sick to the stomach. Didn't people realize drawing attention to getting old only made the person turning old uneasy? If she had it her way her birthday would have been spent at Hogwarts, grading tests, while planning lessons for the next month. In other words, her day would be just like any other day.
That had been a full month ago, and yet it still annoyed her. She was well aware of her somewhat sour attitude, but obviously everyone had taken note to it. A Minerva McGonagall mid life crisis wasn't really something one expected to come from her, but it did. She supposed there was no getting away from it, and having one was just part of the life process. Still, losing her cool like that was totally uncharacteristic of her even if she had a legitimate excuse. No excuse was legitimate enough for her to give herself a free pass. As a woman of high repute she held herself at a higher standard, and losing grip like that did not comply with how she believed she was supposed to act.
It was very early in the morning; six to be exact, and Minerva was wide awake, read to prepare for the day. Her daily schedule was very predictable for someone like her, and inevitably that included getting up at an early hour to prepare for the day. The professor was walking along the halls to get to her office when she heard a male voice coming from somewhere in her vicinity. She stopped in her tracks to listen more carefully. That was when she heard the faint 'help' coming from the broom closet adjacent to her. Her heels clicked as she walked over to it, and she tried to open it only to find it locked. She rolled her eyes before taking out her wand and uttering a strong. "Alohomora!" It had been ages since she used that spell, but she figured a mere broom closet wasn't spell proofed. Quickly she opened the door to see was idiot had locked themselves in the closet.
Much to her surprise it wasn't anyone she expected. Instead it was Alistair Macmillan. He was a Ravenclaw, seventh year who was generally quite talented in the art of Transfiguration, but he recently messed up an essay which caused her to wonder if he was alright. Seeing him the way he was made her worry even more. Minerva put her wand away and crossed her arms, tapping her shoe, shaking her head in disapproval. "Now this is a surprise," she said, her voice only displaying her disappointment even more. "Tell me Mr. Macmillan how you managed to get yourself into this, uh, predicament? And, is that alcohol I smell on you?" Everything about this situation didn't add up. In her mind Alistair was a responsible, competent, and intelligent young man who could do so much better than a broom closet. Had the young Ravenclaw completely lost his mind? Or was he simply mixed in with the wrong crowd? Professor McGonagall didn't even want to know. ------------------------------------------------------------------
tagged: jazz
words: 626
notes: mcG really needs a thread; i hope you don't mind!
THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY RACHIZZLE OF CAUTION 2.0. THE LYRICS ARE CREDITED TO ONE REPUBLIC. DON'T REMOVE THESE CREDS. THANKS FOR USING!
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Post by ALISTAIR ELIJAH MACMILLAN on Aug 7, 2012 21:01:25 GMT
IT’S HEAVY IT’S ON MY MIND• you say that you feel just fine he's racking •AND STACKING YOUR LINES For how long he lay there once more Alistair wasn't sure. His body was still in that heavy, lethargic stage and his brain still so fuzzy he was pretty sure some alcohol was still left in his system. He had time to wonder how on earth he got into this situation and how on earth he was going to get out. People would pass by here all day; he had no way of telling what time it was, it could still be the middle of the night. The best case scenario was the caretaker finding him, deducting a few points from Ravenclaw and maybe because he was usually such a solid student he'd even avoid a detention. Then he could shuffle off to bed unnoticed by any students who would undeniably heighten his embarrassment.
He was just wondering whether maybe he should bang some more because his mouth felt drier than the desert in the height of summer when his brain registered footsteps heading his way and the door rattled. Causing him to yelp with surprise and just about move his head before a sharp, crisp voice called ’alohomora’ and the door opened. Freedom! Was all he managed to think as he toppled unceremoniously out of the cupboard, groaning. He blinked a few times his eyes complaining about the sudden light and it wasn't until his rescuer spoke again that he realised who it was. That sobered him up quickly.
He snapped his head up sharply his eyes widening first in slight horror and then narrowing because it was just his luck to have the professor who had tipped him over the edge into this mess rescue him from the end result. And maybe quite ironic. Because right now, feeling very sorry for himself indeed he did blame professor McGonagall for last night. Alistair was the type of guy to apportion the blame to somebody else even if it was all quite blatantly his fault. He never liked to admit that.
He pulled himself gingerly to his feet, swaying on the spot slightly as he stared down at the ground now, honestly extremely embarrassed to be found like this. It would have been better if she shouted at him, that way Alistair could get angry too if he wanted to (not that he would with a professor he respected their authority) but the disapproval and was that disappointment in her voice were evident and so he hung his head in shame.
He bit his lip, knowing there wasn't a good enough explanation to warrant any of this. Or at least not an explanation that would satisfy McGonagall. He wasn't one to lie to his teachers and even if years of being a good student had meant he could get away with things with other professors, McGonagall wasn't really like that. "Ummmm." was all he could come up with, very unsure of what to do or say in situations like these. If he was a seasoned trouble maker he probably would have come up with something witty or perhaps an elaborate lie but Alistair was currently feeling like an insecure teenager getting drunk over petty teenage drama and it humiliated him to have to admit that to McGonagall to whom he had always tried to impress. "I don't have an excuse," he sighed looking up a little bit, desperate to show her that he was sorry, "I got drunk and somehow ended up in there, I don't remember how." heat rose to his cheeks.
He looked at her properly now and desperate to see himself excused he said, "I want to write that essay again, professor if you wouldn't mind marking it for me?"
TAGGED ! minerva mcgonagall/alistair macmilan
WORDS ! 613
LYRICS ! calm down dearest by Jamie T
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! thanks! I don't mind!
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Post by MINERVA CORNELIA MCGONAGALL on Aug 10, 2012 9:10:14 GMT
I NEED ANOTHER STORY. SOMETHING TO GET OFF MY CHEST.I'M GONNA GIVE ALL MY SECRETS AWAY.TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR. SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE THOSE YEARS.------------------------------------------------------------------ Minerva never really understood why teenagers had the need to go out all night and party when they had a future to attend to. During her youth she devoted most of her time to studies, and even when she did go out she managed to be responsible. A lot of that probably had to do with how she was raised, but that didn't give others the excuse to just indulge in such things. It broke her heart to find out about unwanted pregnancies, horrible accidents, and missed chances all because of irresponsible partying. People called her uptight, but Minerva simply thought it was common sense. Obviously the times were changing. That didn't mean the professor would allow herself to be swayed by popular belief; her students had plenty of time to have fun after they finished their education. Looking down at Alistair so obviously hungover almost made her want to abandon those beliefs.
He was a shining example for his peers; one of her brightest and best students, and it hit a chord in her to see him the way he was. If he couldn't avoid the temptation to get wasted, how could any of his classmates? On the other hand, deep down, she felt that she was being a bit harsh on him by holding him to such a high standard. Why shouldn't he go out and have fun if everyone around him was? Plus he looked so helpless and pitiful lying on the ground; who knew what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into last night. After all, sleeping in a broom closet wasn't something people did on simply whim. If she was the type to give free passes based on previous behavior Minerva would have simply let him go without a lecture, reprimand, or removal of house points. Unfortunately, she was not like that, and if Mr. Macmillan insisted on doing moronic things consequences would have to be administered.
Looking down at the young boy's look of horror made her feel bad. He knew what was coming to him, and it really wasn't like she wanted to scare him out of his mind. Her students simply did not understand that she did these things because she wanted them to succeed in life and not make the same mistakes once they graduated. That was exactly why she had to punish him even though his behavior was generally much better than that of late. The hanging of his head was a good sign, and it indicated to her that he knew what he had done was wrong. Perhaps her punishment would not have to be quite as harsh if he was already punishing himself, however, his greeting words were quite underwhelming.
"You don't have an excuse?" she repeated coolly. Minerva shook her head as he proceeded to tell her about how he got drunk. "I already assumed you were intoxicated. Only someone out of their mind would consciously chose the broom closet for their sleeping arrangements!" Minerva was obviously frustrated and angry, but unlike some she didn't blow her top; she got horribly sarcastic. This whole scenario did not look good on the young man at all. There were plenty of things he could have been doing instead of what he did. "I have no choice but to deduct fifteen points from Ravenclaw for being out after hours, and you will be serving detention tomorrow afternoon in my office." The woman let out a disappointed sigh, but she was definitely not ready for what he said to her next.
She was very impressed with his straightforwardness, and his willingness to redo his mistake, but Minerva never let people do work over again for a better grade. "Your offer is noble, and I respect the fact you have acknowledged the poor quality of your work, but you know that once you submit a piece of work that is the final grade." Nope, she wasn't getting points for being the coolest teacher in the world today. "I'm sorry Mr. Macmillan. I really am."
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tagged: jazz
words: 673
notes: :]
THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY RACHIZZLE OF CAUTION 2.0. THE LYRICS ARE CREDITED TO ONE REPUBLIC. DON'T REMOVE THESE CREDS. THANKS FOR USING!
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Post by ALISTAIR ELIJAH MACMILLAN on Aug 17, 2012 17:03:06 GMT
IT’S HEAVY IT’S ON MY MIND• you say that you feel just fine he's racking •AND STACKING YOUR LINES Most of the time Alistair was the sensible type. He was the sort of student who when he wasn't in classes was holed up in the library doing the work unless he had a quidditch practise to attend to. His week was always scrupulously planned so that everything got done and handed in out of the way to leave his weekends free to do as he pleased. The last couple of years he'd sometimes had to study over the weekend as well since NEWT level classes were so much more difficult and time consuming. It didn't bother him, truth be told most of the time Alistair preferred to work but he didn't need much convincing when it came to a Saturday night and there was a party going on. He'd worked hard all week and he deserved a reward did he not?
Saying that, this was out of character and really quite self destructive when Alistair usually frowned at and looked down on people that responded to their problems like this. It was that thought that if possible made him feel worse. Had he actually sunk that low? Perhaps this was just a coming of age thing or something you had to get out of our system like losing your virginity or smoking a cigarette - drinking on a school night. In reality he should have just burned the essay sat in the library behind a book and sulked for the night and been done with it. Why had he suddenly turned into an over emotional over dramatic teenager? He was Alistair Macmillan he should be above that.
He took a small step back, a little wounded by her sharp sarcasm. Not that he was surprised by the reaction; McGonagall was renowned for it after all. He frowned slightly, vague images coming back to him. "I don't think I chose it I think someone locked me in and I was forced to." he replied a little abruptly. McGonagall continued to reprimand him and he couldn't help but let his mouth drop open at his punishment. "Professor! Detention really?" He'd lost house points before, his inability to shut up saw to that but never had he been in enough trouble to gain himself a detention. "Please it's not like I do this all the time! And trust me I've learned my lesson." As he spoke his stomach turned uncomfortably and he forced his tone to be reasonable because he knew sounding like he was answering back was not going to gain him any brownie points.
It seemed like today was a day of firsts for him because not only had he earned himself a detention on his record he had also earned himself a fail since she wasn't going to let him redo the work. He signed unable to keep the sulky look from his face. ”This is not fair.” Al said bluntly, the injustice of it all flaring up inside of him and taking over the sensible rational side that that was usually in control. ”I’ve never failed anything in my life. Ever. And now I make one stupid mistake and it goes down on my record.” He shook his head, regretting it instantly as the corridor began to sway around him. He was disappointed with himself more than anyone but Al was one to blame other people for his mistakes, even professors.
TAGGED ! minerva mcgonagall/alistair macmilan
WORDS ! 563
LYRICS ! calm down dearest by Jamie T
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! sorry for le wait! and on an unrelated note rod/ellen thread eeeek, your last paragraph was way more amazing!!!
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Post by MINERVA CORNELIA MCGONAGALL on Aug 31, 2012 20:24:54 GMT
I NEED ANOTHER STORY. SOMETHING TO GET OFF MY CHEST.I'M GONNA GIVE ALL MY SECRETS AWAY.TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR. SOMETHING THAT WAS LIKE THOSE YEARS.------------------------------------------------------------------ Some students believed that they were entitled to good grades because they displayed excellence other times throughout the year. That was definitely not the case, and Minerva treated every assignment as a completely different entity. A failing student had the same opportunity as a succeeding student. That was the rule, and even someone like Alistair couldn't change that. Some called her policies unfair, but they were far from it. The professor's who tried to win over their students by being lenient and allowing re-dos were unfair. They were not preparing their students for reality and in the end that was going to hurt them. Minerva wanted to see her pupils do well in life, not get pushed down because she failed to teach them how to work for their grades.
It was much harder for McGonagall to be so harsh on students she treasured such as Macmillan, but her job was to prepare them for life, and if the young Ravenclaw had handed that essay in for a job application it would have been shredded immediately. For a split second, however, Minerva was tempted to allow him to redo the essay. He obviously felt so much remorse for what he had done, and that in itself was difficult to find in a teenager. The Transfiguration professor cocked her head to the side as if she was thinking something over, but as soon as he opened his mouth she took back the whole idea of letting him redo the essay.
She shook her head more and crossed her arms. "No, you don't do this all the time which is why I need to make sure you won't do it ever again," Minerva said rather plainly. "I assure you it will not be too strenuous." The professor had no intention of being a slave driver to him, but he had to take consequences for his actions. Perhaps if another professor found him like he was they'd allow him a warning, but if they found someone who was known for wreaking havoc they'd punish them. Alistair was simply unlucky that he had been discovered by her, and Minerva was not going to go back on her word. "You should probably stop talking while you are ahead. Mr. Macmillan," she said coldly.
Unfortunately, the young boy only hurt his case even more by saying his next words. She was very surprised, angry, and frustrated, but she managed to keep her cool; that she was famous for. "You are not entitled to anything, and the sooner you learn that the better you will do once you leave Hogwarts." Anyone could tell she was rather perturbed with the Ravenclaw in front of her. She couldn't believe what she had just heard from a student she appreciated for being mature. His words were far from mature, and nothing he had said earned him the right to redoing the essay, getting out of detention, or gaining his house points back. The professor could tell that the boy was really beating himself up over his mistake, and her face softened gently. "If you complete the detention without complaining I'll make sure it doesn't hurt your record too much."
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tagged: jazz
words: 529
notes: :]
THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY RACHIZZLE OF CAUTION 2.0. THE LYRICS ARE CREDITED TO ONE REPUBLIC. DON'T REMOVE THESE CREDS. THANKS FOR USING!
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Post by ALISTAIR ELIJAH MACMILLAN on Sept 7, 2012 14:31:56 GMT
IT’S HEAVY IT’S ON MY MIND• you say that you feel just fine he's racking •AND STACKING YOUR LINES Right now, all Alistair wanted to do was find his bed, pull back the duvet and hide under it for the rest of the day. Perhaps keeping a jug of water on his bedside table and making sure there was an easy route to the bathroom. He did not want to be standing here at whatever time it was in the morning being lectured by Professor McGonagall when it felt like someone was trying to carve his head in two with a blunt axe. Alistair always suffered bad hangovers. He tried all the tricks in the book in an attempt to keep them at bay; drinking only one type of beverage, lining your stomach beforehand, guzzling down a bottle of water before bed. He was simply a lightweight and therefore the alcohol went to his head quickly and he suffered the next day. Once he woke up without a hangover but soon realised that was because he was still drunk and later on in the day he did start to feel the effects.
This was like a double punishment. Being caught and feeling ill, Al couldn’t help but feel like it really wasn’t fair. He knew countless numbers of students that were forever getting up to no good like this and never getting found out. Why did he have to be the unlucky one and get caught on the day he decided to really go downhill? But then life wasn’t fair, that was something that Alistair was only just realising. Being a pureblood he had always been ahead in life, he had always had enough money for nice things, expensive clothes, family holidays, and his parents had encouraged him to start studying magic before he got his Hogwarts letter. And so Al had never had anything hold him back, he’d been encouraged to follow his dreams and been told that it was more than likely that he would achieve them, that’s the way it was when you lived in his world.
But now he was beginning to understand that that wasn’t the whole story. And he resented his parents slightly for not being completely honest with him. Alistair had friends that were muggleborn, friends that were struggling in classes and who would struggle in life, who were currently struggling in life and you had to be living in a cave to not know how dark things in the wizarding world were becoming. Yes, Alistair was the type of person who would more than likely put himself before others but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t feel guilty about it and in fact he was changing as a person, he was becoming less self-centred and more mature as his understanding of life grew.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t still mad at McGonagall however. ”Fine.” He grumbled under his breath, eyes narrowed down at the floor as he realised he was not going to get out of this at all. His eyes snapped back up to her, irritated that he was being proved wrong. Even if it was a professor with years of life experience telling him so, he did not like it one bit. ”I’m not exactly going to waltz into work drunk, am I?” He said, possibly a little too defensively, not heading the professor’s warning to control his tongue. He sighed, forcing himself to sound calm. ”I know I’m not entitled to anything. I take everything seriously. I work hard.” He stopped himself from saying that he therefore thought he deserved a night off. There was no use arguing and he knew that but he just always had to have the last word. ”Thank you, professor.” He said, genuinely grateful that his reputation might not be damaged too much at the end of all this. That was if he hadn’t managed to talk himself into more trouble.
TAGGED ! minerva mcgonagall/alistair macmilan
WORDS ! 563
LYRICS ! calm down dearest by Jamie T
TEMPLATE ! PANIC! ITS LAUZ @ CAUTION
NOTES ! sorry for ze wait!
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