The Lions Like To Roar

[Hestia Fairchild]

May 29, 1887

Hestia was starting to truly worry about how much she seemed to be messing up when it came to making friends. She kept messing up, and it was truly embarrassing and sad. She didn't like it. She liked making friends, not making people mad at her.
She had been very careful recently, trying her hardest not to do something stupid. She was still a hyper child, it couldn't be helped, but she tried to be a lot more calm. She didn't like it, but she didn't want to mess up more. She wanted more friends.
She currently was trying to catch a letter that kept slipping from her hands. She had accidently dropped it, and it kept bumping from her hands and right back into the air. She was starting to get very annoyed. She hadn't had the best time paying attention, when she bumped into someone, and with a 'oof', they both fell down.

(OOC- Oh my gosh, I just remembered, isn't Cameron the one that she had ended up being right outside the  common room with?)
@'Cameron Gillenwater'

  

[Cameron Gillenwater]

It was almost the end of the school year, and Cameron was already beginning to mourn his time away from the school. He'd walked through each of the halls, studying the painting on the walls, irrationally afraid that he'd never see them again. What if all of them had been some wild dream? What if he was in a coma right now? What if he woke up at any minute only to find that he'd imagined all of this? He didn't want to be a muggle — he was happy being a wizard.

He'd learned so much in the year he'd spent at Hogwarts, and he was sure that his parents would now not have to worry about him blowing things up when he was upset. He wasn't going to be allowed to use his wand (the idea of getting expelled for underage spell-casting wasn't at all appealing), but he would still have his textbooks. With them, he'd be able to memorize things for the next school year.

He'd been walking down the hallway in a slightly aloof manner — that was until he found himself flat on his back. He looked up to see what he'd run into, only to find that it was a who. "Miss Fairchild, please forgive me," he said quickly, pulling off the ground. He offered his hand to help her up, desperately hoping she wasn't hurt.

230 words

  

[Hestia Fairchild]

Hestia felt the familiar feeling of utter embarrassment. This was utter frustration for her. Was she truly fated for such rotten luck? She couldn't even go a few months without doing something embarrassing.

She was about to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to plead that the person wouldn't get mad at her, when she heard the person apologize. Hestia could go one of two ways, shrug it off and say that the other was forgiven, or apologize and admit it was her fault. But, Hestia wasn't cunning, she was chivalrous. She was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin.

"No, no, I'm sorry. My letter kept falling from my hands, and I accidently bumped into you because I wasn't looking at where I was going. I should have been paying attention. I'm sorry." She admitted with a sad sigh. She just hoped he wouldn't be upset.

@'Cameron Gillenwater'