Amos sits at a table in the Great Hall reading Skeeter's Scoop, one eyebrow arched, his face twisted into a scowl.

Bullshit. As usual.

 ...

It's already June sixth.

Everyone, I think Amos is in shock.

Marlene McKinnon.

Amos is trying his best not to feel shitty, or depressed, or think about all of the bad things that are going on in his head.  He's taken a shower after practice and has decided it's too warm for his robes. He totally has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he totally smells like Christmas trees today. He finds Marlene in a ( Read more... )

Amos is sitting against the wall of a corridor, flicking his wand lazily to place pictures in a sort of scrapbook he's created for Amelia. He stares at a particular one he was showing Bertha earlier and sighs softly.


( Read more... )

It's Quidditch practice again, and one of Amos's Chasers has accidentally taken a Bludger to the face. He leans over, and carefully takes a look at her quickly swelling eye, and her nose, which looks broken, the blood spurting out.Dammit, Lyra, keep your other eye closed and don't move! Someone hand me my wand so I can stop the blood flow and try ( Read more... )

~ Amos is no longer in his immature, carefree mood. In fact, he's shut up indoors, frowning at a textbook and actually studying like a madman. I think the boy's gone insane. ~

~Amos is lying in the grass around the outskirt of the Pitch, near the lake, with one of his Beaters. They're goofing off, which he hasn't done in awhile, and generally just being boys, laughing over nothing in particular.

~ It's almost sunset, and Amos is alone on the Pitch, flying as fast as he can and doing all the tricks he knows, completely spaced out. He's been flying for a few hours. ~

~Amos is sitting outside, back against a tree, wind ruffling his hair and nibbling on his quill occasionally as he jots down notes. His eyes feel like they are bleeding, however, because schoolwork is his absolute torture.~

*in an empty classroom, staring at the wall*