- Messages
- 10,790
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Blood Status
- Muggleborn
- Relationship Status
- Interested in Somebody
- Sexual Orientation
- Gay
- Wand
- Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 1/1999 (65)
[adminapproval=30083257]Monty had not been well. Since his encounter with Odette and Margo, his mind had been plagued with questions he had no means of answering, lest he run the risk of seeing his family again. And he couldn't do that. Not after thirty-one years. What on earth would his mother say, if she saw him now? He'd have to explain himself. He'd have to tell her why he'd run away. It was utterly out of the question. No matter how he'd tried to persuade himself over the last three decades, he couldn't face even writing his mother a letter, let alone meeting her again. It wasn't just his fear of having to explain himself, or his fear of seeing his stepfather again; truth be told, he was afraid of how he would feel. His mother had never truly been a mother to him. At best, she'd been distant; at worst, she'd been deeply depressed, completely unable to care for Monty the way she ought have. And though Monty had long forgiven her, he was not sure he would ever be able to like her.
Under the weight of all these troubles, Monty was growing tired. For once he could not wait for term to end - though he was somewhat unsure how he would convince himself to return again in the new year. At least two students had figured out who he was, which meant there was a good chance one of them was related to him. He'd have curled up somewhere dark and hidden there until his problems disappeared, if he'd thought it might work; but he'd tried that many years ago, to no avail. No, he could not hide, and he could not run. Really, he had nowhere to go.
The library had always been a safe haven for Monty, from his own years as a student at Hogwarts Scotland to his employment as a professor at HNZ; and it was there he found himself again that afternoon, in part to hide from any students who might be knocking at his office, and in part to lose himself for a while in the comforting arms of a book. But when he arrived and began to browse the bookshelves, he could not for the life of him decide what to read. After searching for a little while he came to a halt, gazing idly up at the tall shelves, his eyes sad and not quite seeing. He was too tired to read, anyway.
Under the weight of all these troubles, Monty was growing tired. For once he could not wait for term to end - though he was somewhat unsure how he would convince himself to return again in the new year. At least two students had figured out who he was, which meant there was a good chance one of them was related to him. He'd have curled up somewhere dark and hidden there until his problems disappeared, if he'd thought it might work; but he'd tried that many years ago, to no avail. No, he could not hide, and he could not run. Really, he had nowhere to go.
The library had always been a safe haven for Monty, from his own years as a student at Hogwarts Scotland to his employment as a professor at HNZ; and it was there he found himself again that afternoon, in part to hide from any students who might be knocking at his office, and in part to lose himself for a while in the comforting arms of a book. But when he arrived and began to browse the bookshelves, he could not for the life of him decide what to read. After searching for a little while he came to a halt, gazing idly up at the tall shelves, his eyes sad and not quite seeing. He was too tired to read, anyway.
