Atlas Hands | Isaac Hardacre | [M]

we've got the vision, now let's have some fun

she'd passed that little room daily. heels clicking, and fire red curls bouncing as she strode down the halls, fighting the urge to poke that perky little red head in and speak to the spunky little ravenclaw. it amazed her daily, his position, not his attitude. but given that the way he acted, most certainly seemed a little off, for a headmaster it would be only be fair to say that she were referring to both. she was a lucky one. dear, amelia pond. the world was a large place, full of dozens of wizards, and just by chance she was picked by the bodacious brute, and for that she was grateful.

the school was large, and peeping took time, as did enrollment. it seemed as if things were leaping out of the deathly shadows, grasping at her mind and her body, demanding attention. amelia wouldn't trade anything in the world for her position though. she adored the children, and the amazing team off staff that she was given the chance to work with. the busy work days got quite hectic, leaving the muggle drained by the end of the day. and while all the others were off tending to their own midnight duties, she was left in the dusty old classroom, half awake, and half asleep atop of the hollow desk. tiny snores would escape the fiery gingers lips; shoulders rising and falling with ease as she snoozed leisurely (in a quiet painful position) a top of her desk. wand perched in her hand, papers askew, and a dimly lit lamp illuminating the gryffindor females classroom.