Charming is a Victorian Era Harry Potter roleplay set primarily in the village of Hogsmeade, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the non-canon village of Irvingly. Characters of all classes, both magical and muggle — and even non-human! — are welcome.

With a member driven story line, monthly games and events, and a friendly and drama-free community focused on quality over quantity, the only thing you can be sure of is fun!
  • Newbie Guide
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  • Hogwarts '87
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  • Lonely Threads
  • House Points
  • 1887
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    01.11 I've got a bit of a reputation...
    01.06 AC underway, and a puzzle to solve!
    01.01 Happy new year! Have some announcements of varying importance.
    12.31 Enter the Winter Labyrinth if you dare!
    12.23 Professional Quidditch things...
    12.21 New stamp!
    12.20 Concerning immortality
    12.16 A heads up that the Secret Swap deadline is fast approaching!
    12.14 Introducing our new Minister of Magic!
    12.13 On the first day of Charming, Kayte gave to me...
    12.11 Some quick reminders!
    12.08 Another peek at what's to come...
    12.05 It's election day! OOC, at least.
    12.04 We have our PW winners for November!
    12.02 New Skins! In less exciting news, the AC is underway.
    11.27 AC Saturday and election next week!
    11.21 A glimpse at post-move changes.
    11.13 This news is not at all big. Do not bother with it.
    Private Thread 
    Won't go away, my hints aren't sinking
    "Hey, " you say, "wanna come with me?"
    I'm about to barf, seriously

    This was the first time that she was going to an event as a courted woman, and Ophelia couldn't have been happier. And such an auspicious event, too! It was hard to say, at the moment, which Ophelia was more excited for: meeting the Queen, or reuniting for the evening with Mr. Devine. She'd made sure to look her best for both of them, since she had her old resources available to her once again. There was no way she would have been able to accomplish the elaborate braided updo without Perenia's help, and very little chance she would have been able to afford a dress this lavish on her meager pension from Witch Weekly.

    She wasn't used to this long of a train, but she'd pinned it up for ease of movement as soon as she'd arrived, and planned to keep it that way until it was time for her to be presented to the Queen. She was sure it would all go well; her dress was perfectly styled, and she nearly shone in the white gown. The gold beading and the rose accents just served to make her skin look more vibrant. The Queen was going to love her, Mr. Devine was going to love her--

    Unfortunately, before she could locate any of the multitude of people she actually wanted to see (she needed to talk to everyone she knew in order to spread the good news about her courtship), she ended up in close proximity to one of the very few people she had no desire to see.

    "Mr. Dawlish," she said, because they were so close that to not greet him seemed rather rude. She hadn't seen him since the incident of the parlor, but her grandfather had told him the engagement was no more.

    Oh, Merlin, she hoped her grandfather had remembered to tell Mr. Dawlish that...

    @Herschel Dawlish @Ursula Black
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Ophelia Dippet's post:
       Roberto Devine
    By some delightful twist of fate, Herschel found himself in the company of the very elusive and frustrating Miss Dippet.

    Except it wasn't a twist of fate at all, he had spotted Miss Dippet only moments earlier and with great purpose set out for her. He'd heard all about this interloping quidditch boy paying court to the young woman and while he hadn't really wanted to actually marry her, he was irritated that he had had her virtue gift wrapped in his lap only to have the opportunity taken away from him before he could take advantage of her it. Of course that didn't mean he didn't still have a shot at it, but it would be more of a challenge thanks to the old goat being a spineless pushover.

    "Ah, Miss Dippet," he extended a hand so he might take hers in his and flatter it with a kiss. "You look positively radiant this evening, the other gentlemen will be seething with jealousy when I introduce you as my fiancée." Just because he still wanted up her skirts didn't mean he didn't resent her for her artful evasion of him and want to make her as uncomfortable possible. Emotionally. Physically was another matter entirely.

    JUNE 9, 1887 | @Ophelia Dippet
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Herschel Dawlish's post:
       Ophelia Dippet

    She wasn't fast enough to pull her hand away when he reached to take it, and she watched him raised it to his lips as though she were simply a horrified spectator at this interaction and not an active participant. She was watching it happen to her, not living it. The feeling that came over her at the touch of his leathery lips was just the way she remembered feeling in the parlor, when he'd come calling on her and been so presumptuous as to touch her in places she oughtn't to have been touched.

    (Oh, Merlin! What would Mr. Devine think if he were to know that had happened? Even her hero could not possible want her after that.)

    If the kiss horrified her, however, his words were even worse. Her eyes widened in obvious disbelief, though for a moment she couldn't make herself say or do anything useful. Oh, Armando couldn't have been so unintentionally cruel as to have forgotten, could he? And even supposing he had, what was she to do, now? How on earth could she navigate this conversation? They had never covered how to tell a lecher you've broken the engagement and your grandfather forgot to tell him at Mrs. Pendergast's!

    Oh, Merlin, other gentlemen! Suppose he had already been telling people? Suppose someone had told Mr. Devine?!

    "B-but--" she managed, feeling the color drain from her face.
    The look on her face was both mollifying and thrilling at the same time. "Why, you've gone remarkably pale, Miss Dippet! Are you quite well?" He was doing his best to sound genuinely alarmed and concerned, even if he was quite convinced he knew the cause of her pallor.

    While his lips had left the back of her hand some seconds ago, he had not relinquished her hand. "Allow me to escort you somewhere you can sit, somewhere away from the prying eyes of gossips." He tried then to lead her from the room by the hand still clasped in his own.

    JUNE 9, 1887 | @Ophelia Dippet

    Ophelia still didn't know what she was supposed to do in this situation, but she knew that allowing this man to lead her away somewhere could only end in disaster. Not that she wanted to stay out here where people could see him holding on to her hand (oh, where was Mr. Devine? Had he seen? How on earth would she ever explain this to him if he had?) but if she let him take her somewhere away from prying eyes, what would happen next? Would he try and drag her off somewhere private and touch her again? Even if he didn't make any inappropriate overtures to her, being seen going into a private room somewhere with him could be quite damaging enough! What would people say? And what would Mr. Devine think?

    Pulling her hand rather forcefully out of his, Ophelia shook her head. "I think I'd do better with a glass of champagne, sir. If you'll excuse me."
    Herschel was disappointed but not entirely surprised that she snatched her hand away before he could sequester her somewhere. Still, it was the price of dealing with young, pretty things with more spirit than was good for them.

    "Oh but you must allow me to accompany you, my dear Miss Dippet. It would be terribly ungentlemanly of me not to assist my own bride-to-be to another drink! No, it wouldn't do at all." Champagne would be good, the more she had the easier she would be to manipulate. "I believe there are glasses to be had over there," he indicated across the room with a subtle nod of his head. He offered her the hand she had just rejected with renewed insistence.

    JUNE 9, 1887 | @Ophelia Dippet

    Ophelia tried to remain composed when she spoke, but it was difficult to keep the stress of this unexpected situation out of her voice. She wanted to be cool and collected, to ensure that he did not get the impression that she was interested in continuing to talk to him, but she was afraid there was a waver to her voice that sabotaged her efforts at coldness. "I think, sir," she said, not reaching for the hand he offered. "That there has been some confusion regarding our... acquaintance. I'm sure my grandfather would be able to straighten the matter out," she continued, although she wasn't really as sure of that as she wanted to pretend she was. Had Armando been the cause of this entire disaster, by failing to inform Mr. Dawlish of the changing circumstances? Oh, she was going to murder him if he hadn't written when he'd said he would! This could have ruined her!

    "I don't think it would be appropriate for you to accompany me anywhere until you've spoken to my grandfather," she said, more firmly now. Armando was here, somewhere, so at the very least this would hopefully allow her to shake off Mr. Dawlish temporarily, so that she could go try to find Mr. Devine and see whether she needed to do any damage control. She hoped, though, that Armando's resolve on the subject was firm enough to stand up to the forcefulness of Mr. Dawlish's personality--if they went off and talked and he came out still under the impression that the two of them were engaged, she really might murder her grandfather!
    For all that he was finding the game of cat and mouse with Miss Dippet entertaining, he didn't think her disposition would be any less attractive if she had just a little of her grandfather's passivity. Not enough to make her dull, just enough to make her a little less difficult. "Now, now, Ophelia," he murmured condescendingly to her and relishing the very precise use of her first name. "Someone might think you an impolite and ungracious fiancée if they overheard such things. I certainly wouldn't want to hear such malicious gossip about you. Now, let's go find some fresh glasses and forget about it, shall we?" His hand remained where it had been before, poised to take hers when she finally offered it.

    JUNE 9, 1887 | @Ophelia Dippet

    Ophelia felt her cheeks grow hot, not so much at his precise words but rather at his tone. She was not a child, to be talked to in such a dismissive manner, and nor was she the sort of delicately constituted woman who shirked at the mere sight of conflict. Perhaps he didn't know that (she had, after all, pretended to faint during their last meeting, which might have given him the wrong idea, though she didn't believe he was much interested in her personality at any rate), but it made his condescending tone no less jarring.

    "I am not your fiancee," she said firmly, her tone sharp though her voice was still at a respectable (and hopefully inaudible to those around them) volume. "And if my grandfather has failed to make that clear to you, sir, you will have to take it up with him. I'm afraid I have no business with you. If you'll excuse me."
    He watched her flounce off and decided not to pursue. For now. As it was, there were plenty of other very becoming young ladies to work on and he was confident that in time he would pin Miss Dippet down. It was just a matter of time and opportunity. Perhaps such an occasion would even present itself later that evening.

    JUNE 9, 1887 | @Ophelia Dippet