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It was after a few choice swears in Norse that Nicodeamus regained his composure. How he could have forgotten, he didn't know. "Sorry, Peter, forgot. And what have I said about Nic? It's either Nico or Nicodeamus, mate, or your going to see me crying over Lill. And that, I assure you, is about as pleasant as a botched Animagus," he said, frowning apologetically. Lill's name for her older brother, when she had been younger was 'Nic' or 'Nickie', and the name stuck. It reminded him of his now dead mum, and his little sister. It was a pretty famous thing about his mum's suicide, his father had contacted the Ministry in a fury. It was the one time that Nico was glad his little sister was in a coma. To hear those swearwords... They would have made the toughest men cry.

"Half giant... God, do you remember that Slytherin last year who called me that? Nordic blood is a curse and a blessing," Nico said sarcastically, he was used to pounding in people's faces for insulting him, "Relax, Damian. Gotta say though, you two are cute."

Moira watched the exhange between Peter and Nico, a ghost of a smile on her face. Between the two of them and Beckett, she was beginning to feel a bit of a gnome. Not in the literal sense, thankfully. Those buggers were hell on their garden back home. But short none the less.

"Sean Matthews?" Moira's eyes widened. "That guy was such a jerk! As if the Slytherin's needed any help!" She remembered the boy on the train, a Slytherin she couldn't recall the name of, and frowned. Jerks1 The whole lot. Excepting my aunt. Although sometimes..

Moira hadn't seen her aunt yet, but she must be here already. This was going to be her second year as the librarian at Hogwarts, and people still give her grief. Her Aunt Morgana wasn't the easiest of people.

[{[ And...No one is on. How wonderful for me.]}

Anna cocked a brow when he smiled, her blush disolving. She dismissed his teasing as that - nothing more than teasing. Blimey, she and Damian had been friends for a long time - ever since the first night of their Hogwart's stay back in thier first year. The topic of "more than friends" was bound to come up sooner or later. Then again, Damian had asked her on a date date... Did he went more than friends? And then, abruptly, she hit her head on the wall. 'Bloody hell! Why am I acting like such a bloody bird?!' She calmed down and grinned, both so as to look innocent and at Peter's words of getting "more action". She rolled her eyes. It was common knowledge, at least she thought it could be catogorized as such, that Peter had a long-standing girl friend for three years. She knew what he said was false, but didn't push the issue. And then Nicodeamus began talking about how cute they were. She snorted, but reminded passive otherwise. Next began laughing like a barmy git, which caused her to snicker into her sleeve. However, she returned her attention to Damian once more quickly enough. Words of 'taking the initiative' echoing in her mind. 'Feh.' She cursed the thought.

"I suppose it does. This summer we'll have to see if we can do something together..." She trailed off. In her mind, there was an invisible bubble seperating Damian and she from the rest of the common room. It wasn't thier business, thier conversations.
( Ugh! I hate my internet. It dies. x.X I would've been on, otherwise... >.. )

((Jeebus...you guys went posting crazy after I left for work. xDD))

Movement across the room caught her eye and Beck shifted her attention momentarily from Peter to the source of the movement. Smiling, Beck waved back at Moira. 'I should probably attempt to make conversation...' the redhead thought, fighting to keep her eyes open. The pleasant hum of conversation coupled with the heat of the roaring fire and the comfort of the squishy cushions beneath her were slowly pulling Beck into a hazy half awareness. Upon hearing Peter answer her question, however, Beck shook her head and returned her attention to him, willing away the fog. A bright laugh escaped the girl as Peter related his summer. Honestly, his neighbors thought he was his dad come back from the afterlife? "Seems you have slighty batty neighbors, Peter," she said with a grin, "Though, I suppose old age does that to you...at least in some cases."

Momentarily, Beckett's thoughts were pulled in an entirely different direction. What if her father ended up that way some day? Charley was still fairly young for a wizard, just under fifty years of age, and should still be in his prime...but he'd never been quite the same after Bryce had died and Eleanor had left him. Though he tried, Beck ultimately assumed the role of head of the family, taking care of both her father and her younger sister, Baylee. Now that she was in her last year at Hogwarts...well, she didn't want to think what would happen after she was forced to leave them and make a life for herself.

Shoving the unwanted thoughts to the back of her mind, Beck blinked, hoping her gaze hadn't been as glassy as it felt like it had during her random thought detour, and paused just long enough to bring the topic of conversation back to the front of her mind. "Watching movies is fun, though. But maybe not for the whole summer," she frowned, "We just recently got a muggle movie player, em..." she waved her hand idly, searching for the word she wanted, "DVD? I think that's what it was called. Anywho, Dad broke down and got one for Baylee and I was forced to watch a rather ridiculous amount of romantic comedies with my sister and her lovely friends." Here the decidedly unromantic girl pulled a face, half disgust and half amusement. "That was fun, I assure you."

It wasn't that she didn't like spending time with her sister, quite the opposite, in fact. She loved Baylee to death, but her sister was her polar opposite and had just recently turned fifteen. Apparently, fifteen was the age when dating boys started becoming a huge deal as did make-up and clothes and gossip...all things Beck just didn't understand. Some of the movies hadn't been so horrible, though. There was one that she remembered that had had something to do with a brothel and a dwarf and a penniless poet that was actually very amusing, if tragic. She could have done without the cast wide love ballad, though. Despite her aversion to all the simpering girlyness that had invaded their household that summer, Beck had sucked it up to spend time with Baylee.

Realizing that, once again, her thoughts had run away with her, Beck refocused on the myriad of conversations going on. Vaguely, the redhead heard Nico call a greeting to her. Sitting up and pulling her legs under her, Beck grinned. "Hey, Nico. I'm smashing, thanks." Deciding that she'd rather sit back and listen for a bit, Beck leaned her head against the back of the couch, a small smile on her face as the voices of many of her friends and fellow Gryffindors reached her ears. The teasing, squabbles about what exactly they were supposed to call one another, and a few topics Beck really didn't want to dwell on bounced through the conversation as everyone seemed to talk to everyone else at once, though noone was getting confused. It was wonderfully entertaining to watch.

Randomly, a snippet of talk caught her attention and Beck turned her head in Peter and Moira's direction, curious. 'A thing for redheads? Huh.' Unexpectedly catching the glance Peter threw her way, Beck's eyes widened ever so slightly and a soft blush spread across her cheeks. 'Redheads...' Subconciously, Beckett fingered a piece of her long, red hair. For the first time in seven years, she paused to actually look at the tall boy. He'd always been just a fellow mate, quidditch player, and Gryffindor. What more was there? Apparently, a lot. She'd never realized how blue Peter's eyes were before (though she wasn't entirely sure they'd always been that color). Of course she'd noticed that he was tall, though even taller this year than last, but she decided it fit him. The height worked well with his frame, quidditch toned as it was. And his smile...

Blinking, a look of horror very nearly crossed Beckett's face as she realized where her thoughts had gone. Turning around quickly, she sunk a little lower into the couch and stared at her hands. What was wrong with her? Peter was just a mate. He was a teammate. That's all...right?

((So, I have no idea where that massive post came from. xDD Lots of things going on to comment about, I suppose.))

"Oh, horror and suspense is much more my kind of movie!" Beck said brightly, her thoughts already on something else. In her opinion, there were some advantages to having a one-track mind. Quick changing thoughts were one of them...at least sometimes. "Or at least it sounds like it would be. I haven't watched many movies." Quickly, an almost devious grin spread across her face as she imagined Baylee and all her chattering friends watching her kind of movies. With a quiet laugh, Beck shook her head and continued speaking. "I suppose action type stuff wouldn't be too bad, as well. But yea, I wouldn't mind borrowing a few. I really don't know if my dad would let me keep any of the horror ones. He's kind of spastic about what Baylee's exposed to. I think he gave up on me, though." Laughing, she shrugged. "I'm a bit of a mystery to him, I guess."

((LOL Aw, nuu! I hate him. xD))

"Don't forget the Viking blood in me, Peter. And god, Matthews. He couldn't get his teeth back after that. Got into some sort of arranged marriage by his parents. They got two years to get to know each other," he said with a grin, "Yeah, Lill's in Mungo's. She woke up a while ago. Too bad mum won't see her again..." he trailed off, remembering his mother's death. He'd taken an early vacation that year to attend her funeral. She'd used some sort of Muggle poison to kill herself. Nicodeamus grinned at Beckett, but said nothing when she responded.

"The Grudge? Nice. Have you ever seen Cabin Fever though? After that, mum–" he cut off, his eyes dimming in memory. He regained his composure quickly, and instantly grinned. He kicked his feet up on the table, reclining back on the plush couch. At Beck's response, he gave her a thumbs up and winked again.

"My dad thinks the French part of me up and died. I'm more a Viking than a Frenchman," he joked, putting his hands behind his hands.

{It's my Birthday! Wooo! Gimmie gifts, fools!}