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!
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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.
    His Funeral Is Probably Next
    Private Thread 
    Herschel had known Eustace Macnair fairly well which was to be expected considering their positions in the Ministry and shared social class. However, he hadn't exactly been Mr. Macnair's closest friend either. Nevertheless, he'd decided to show up to the funeral to pay his respects. He also rather liked a good funeral, especially when the person going six feet under was a great deal younger than himself, it made him feel quite triumphant. The best thing about a good, well attended funeral, however, were the weeping women. Nothing said vulnerable to seduction like a crying woman in black crepe.

    So like the sex vulture that he was, Herschel had turned up in his best mourning suit and began his survey of the gathering. There was a disappointingly small number of grief-stricken women, even the man's widow seemed devoid of predictable hysterics. Not wanting to have wasted his time by attending, he picked a few young ladies out that he liked the look of and thought he'd try his chances. Top of his list and the one he assumed most likely to be in some state of misery leaving her vulnerable to his charms, was the deceased's niece, Miss Tatiana Lestrange.

    When an opportunity presented itself during the allotted viewing time of the body, Herschel quietly walked up behind the young woman and stood himself to the side of her. "Allow me to offer my deepest sympathies on the passing of your uncle, Miss Lestrange. What a terrible, terrible tragedy."

    JULY 21st, 1887 | @Tatiana Lestrange
    [-] The following 2 users Like Herschel Dawlish's post:
       Annabelle Scrimgeour, Odira Potter

    That Aunt Olivia died had been shocking; that cousin Rosalind had died, tragic. That Uncle Eustace was dead now, though, was something different. Tatiana had not expected to care, and while she did not grieve, at least not fully, his absence from the house they had so long shared was palpable. She had kept a wary eye upon her aunt throughout the funeral proceedings, and taken her cues on the matter from the woman who had raised her. As such, Tatiana’s assumed demeanor was a drawn, quiet one as she averted the eyes of most and generally kept to herself. After all, Eustace Macnair had been the closest thing she had to a father—it wasn’t his fault that she had taken more after his wife!

    An untouched tea cup was perched in her hands as she stood at the edge of the gathering that had returned to the house. It was impressive, but then, theirs was an impressive family, one that demanded respect simply for continuing to exist. The best of the best—and a great deal who liked to think themselves as much—were here to pay tribute to a man they scarcely knew from a family they envied.

    Tatiana was not certain which category Herschel Dawlish fell into, but she knew that his was not company she cared to endure overlong.

    “So kind of you to say, Mr. Dawlish,” she replied softly, pleased the veil she had donned for the occasion gave her excuse not to meet his eyes. “My dear uncle’s passing was so sudden, I scarcely know what to do without him. He was so young—it is dreadfully unfair to have lost him so soon.”

    Especially with walking corpses like Dawlish still prancing about.
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Tatiana Lestrange's post:
       Ursula Black
    [Image: odM84nr.jpg]
    pretties by MJ <3
    Herschel felt very reassured by Miss Lestrange's reception of him; here was a young lady suffering and vulnerable and in need of a husband! He had no intention of taking advantage of the latter any further than perhaps allowing her to imagine that could be his intention so he could make an attempt on her maidenhood. Naive young girls always made themselves more readily available if they thought they were on the path to marriage.

    "Indeed, it's a great loss," he agreed with a heavy sigh that wasn't genuine but was meant to sound it. "And you must be suffering immensely; to endure so much loss at such a tender age, it's unimaginably unjust!" Herschel doubted her age was the most tender part of her. "But allow me to say, Miss Lestrange, that you bear it with impeccable grace." He was trying on that roguish half-smolder that he occasionally practiced in the mirror while performing his morning ablutions.

    JULY 21st, 1887 | @Tatiana Lestrange
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Herschel Dawlish's post:
       Odira Potter

    “You are so generous to say so, Mr. Dawlish,” she cooed appreciatively as her obscured gaze searched about the room for some relation or another to rescue her from the crypt-keeper’s uncle. “I feel as if such a wreck ever since it…it happened.”

    Tatiana was not the sort to wear her heart on her sleeve, but if Mr. Dawlish and the others here in attendance expected her to play the role of visibly grieving daughter, then she would have to do so.
    [Image: odM84nr.jpg]
    pretties by MJ <3
    Confidence shot through him as she appeared to be playing straight into his hands. "But of course you do," he sympathized, albeit with ulterior motive on his mind. "Who could expect any less of you?" He hoped she started crying soon, the more vulnerable the better.

    "If you don't mind me saying, Miss Lestrange, you may be woefully grief-stricken but it hasn't dimmed your sublime beauty in the slightest. If anything, you are all the more radiant!" Herschel felt ever so pleased with his choice of words, he could only wonder at how they were affecting her. Hopefully he'd see a timid blush in her pale cheeks and know that he'd put it there. Ah yes, this funeral would surely be worth the effort.

    JULY 21st, 1887 | @Tatiana Lestrange
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Herschel Dawlish's post:
       Tatiana Lestrange

    Merlin help her, Mr. Dawlish was a shark in the water. Fortunately, Tatiana was more kraken than mermaid—too shrewd by half to fall for the old lecher’s attempts at…wooing her? Using her misery as an invitation to the paradise that lay between her legs? Whatever he was doing, the witch was not amenable to his goals, but could not politely detangle herself from this conversation—not when there was something that she might conceivably want from him.

    “You make me blush, Mr. Dawlish,” she replied shyly, doing no such thing but grateful for the veil that disguised her lie. “I should hate to think that grief compliments me, for it pains my heart so greatly, but it is a relief to know that it does not mar me. You’re a kind man, sir.”
    @Herschel Dawlish/@Ursula Black
    [Image: odM84nr.jpg]
    pretties by MJ <3
    As far as Herschel was aware, he was making great progress up the metaphorical skirts of Miss Tatiana Lestrange, which would hopefully result in a far less metaphorical ascent before long. "Nonsense," he dismissed in a display of faux humility. "I merely made an observation, kindness would have involved some embellishment and what embellishments could one find for perfection?"

    He gave a smarmy grin and generally felt pleased with himself for the easy progress he had made. "I hope society will not suffer your loss too long." In other news, Herschel very much wanted to seize her for a dance at some stage, although if he seized her for a different kind of dance first, that would just be awkward.

    JULY 21st, 1887 | @'Tatiana Lestrang'
    [-] The following 1 user Likes Herschel Dawlish's post:
       Tatiana Lestrange

    It was plain as day that Mr. Dawlish could not detect her falsehoods, which suited Tatiana just fine indeed. It spoke to his character as one easily led—at least by her—and such a man would make, she knew, an ideal husband. It was a pity he had so many offspring already.

    “I must, of course, take some time to grieve his passing,” the witch replied demurely, “though shall mourn him as an uncle, not as the father he was to me in my heart. Society, I hope, will forgive me that slight under my own personal circumstances.” At twenty-one she did not yet have a foot in the grave, but younger relations were already beginning to take the step towards matrimony.
    @Herschel Dawlish
    [Image: odM84nr.jpg]
    pretties by MJ <3
    Herschel took her words to mean her ever encroaching age which was still very young but many would not see it quite as such. Though he preferred females much too young for him, his threshold was not so harsh as to consider girls of one and twenty to be old maids quite yet. Miss Lestrange was far too becoming to dismiss her so easily even if she was twenty-eight and unwed!

    "I doubt society could possibly look upon you with anything but the utmost favor, Miss Lestrange." Of all the ladies out in society at present, he had to give it to Tatiana Lestrange that she was one of the few he'd consider actually taking for a wife. "I know I certainly could not," he added solemnly, giving her what he intended to be a subtly smoldering look.

    JULY 21st, 1887 | @Tatiana Lestrange