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Festival zasenčil dogajanje na ministrstvu07.09. 2016
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 Harrietta "Harry" Reynolds

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Harry Reynolds

Poklic : Piarovec
Bivališče : Blizu ministerstva
Število prispevkov : 1

ObjavljaNaslov sporočila: Harrietta "Harry" Reynolds   Tor Jul 26, 2016 8:25 pm


The light in the room is slight, but somehow the idea of ruining her 20/20 vision is something the woman doesn’t seem to mind. Her back is curled as her eyes furiously scan the paper in her hand. Her lips are slightly moving as she reads the printed words. Her eyebrows are the only things that give away her reactions to the text. Suddenly she grabs a red pen off the desk and starts from the beginning, this time scribbling notes of improvement. If you haven’t guessed by now, Harry is a PR for the minister of magic. She’s the one that makes sure, everything is tippy toppy before it leaves the ministry, so they keep whatever pieces of dignity the politicians have. She’s the thin wall between what ministers know and what the outsiders learn or more importantly how the learn it. And besides the occasional running late, she is damn good at it.
She may as well be since she worked so hard for it. Coming from Hogwarts, she got a job as an intern to a free-lancing journalist. After a year and some articles, that got mediocre success, she auditioned as an inter to the ministry and sooner rather than later earned her pace as the PR.
As far as the future is concerned she wouldn’t mind a more political career, but she would also be completely happy staying in her lane.
Harry sees school similarly as every other teenager did, but she does love learning something new whenever she can, on her own ground, by her own rules. Which is a nice way of saying she wasn’t exactly the best student. She got through most her classes just fine (with Bs and Cs), but absolutely excelled in subject she really cared about, like history and muggle studies. She made her passion very obvious, which made some people love her and others despise her, doing so with a lion across her heart.
So you don't know the Reynolds family? Well, I suppose it’s not really a surprise. They try to keep out of the public eyes, their success, though, is slightly questionable. Depending on how far back into the past you want me to take you, there is usually a law defying Reynolds somewhere in the mists of the biggest scandals. The latest? Well, her brother being killed by his girlfriends, because of a jealousy outburst. Oh, yeah, with magic – self-defence, apparently. Yes, a completly pure-blood family, for a few centuries at least. Maybe, that’s ready to change.
Ah, Kent Alexander Reynolds, 52, works somewhere in the ministry. Harry’s father. Alcoholic. Anger issues. Cynic.
Carrie Anne Reynolds (neé Colbert), 50, a retired teacher of muggle studies. Harry’s mother. Kind. The only one really trying to keep the family together. Smart. Funny. Caring.
Martin Kent Reynolds, (died at) 25, photographer. Harry’s brother. His father on the outside, his mother on the inside.
Lydia Angelica Reynolds (married Schuyler), 29. Harry’s sister. Nobody know’s where she is or what she does. She left, when Harry was 7 years old. The one that got away.
Half Veela – through her mother side.
See that window? The only one with the lights, at 3 am. You guessed it. Harry has a small apartment a couple of blocks away from the ministry. The place is really the cheapest piece of shit ever, but it’s slowly growing on her. The two rooms and a bathroom are far from what she was used to growing up, but it was surprisingly easy to get used to it. A small living room and an even smaller kitchen aren’t separated by a wall. The bedroom is just big enough to fit a bed, a closet and a full length mirror. “It’s cosy.”
Is reading a hobby? What about partying? Honestly, Harry is either working, reading or ... well, since there is a lot of alcohol involved you can understand how she doesn’t really remember much of that, right? Hm...
Ah, this juggernaut is a sight. Her beauty is a valuable point of conversation on its own, but the charisma and pleasure she radiates is just as important. The young lady, nevertheless, has her flaws, but very few of those are obvious to the eye.
If you see her going to or coming from work, you’ll catch a glimpse of a tight skirt and blouse or a well-fitted pantsuit. If you see her just about, she will always take comfort over fashion. But if you see her trying to party her problems away, don’t hold that breath in too long and close your mouth, you pervert. ;')
Charismatic. Brave. Opinionated. Not that does three words define her, they are the closest to that you can get, when trying to describe a flesh and blood human being with as many flaws as attributes. The attributes are contained mainly in her work as for the flaws ... well, here we go. This brunette works like a magnet to people, yet the closest to a real relationship (romantic or not) is probably the cat down the street who only lets Harry pet her. She meets now people, lets them fall for her, but as soon as the question of family or past come knocking into the conversation she slams the door shut. Charisma is a gift and a curse, I guess. She will also stand up for anyone, whether that’s a waitress being bullied or muggles being scrutinised – very liberal, yes, bite me. Her mood changes rather quick, not too extremely, but still.  You can sit with her under a star filled sky and talk about how fucked up the world is, magical and non-magical, and you can dance with her, just jumping and sweating, but still she will seem exceptional, just don’t stare too long or too far you pervert. ;-)  
Okay, to keep a little mystery I want to focus on one event in this darling’s life. I do, though, think this shows you enough:
“Harrietta,” she moaned, a smirk resting on her face. “If you call me that again, this isn’t happening.” I answered, pretending to be angry. While I really did hate that name, something about the way she said it, didn’t hit the same button the name usually pushed. “Calling you Harry makes me feel like I’m back in the closet,” she joked. That brought a smile on my face as I lowered it to hers, connecting our lips.  She kissed me back, both of us trying to push aside the feeling of how wrong this was to the side. Don’t get me wrong, the fact that I’m kissing a person with the same genitalia as me is not the problem here. My bisexuality is surprisingly something just about everyone around me was always fine with. The problem was different. See the woman I’m kissing is ... “Mmm,” it was my turn to moan as she moved her hand lower down my back, away from my back. I stepped back, smiling. “Let me see what my dad is hiding in the cabinet,” I say, looking at tens of bottles holding different coloured liquids. “Harry, don’t stall. If you don’t want to do this, its fine, just don’t push me away.” Her arms wrap around my waist as her head rests on my shoulder. I let go of the cabinet door, exhaling. “Maybe ... It’s not that I don’t like you, ‘cause oh my god, I do,” I start turning around to look at her, “Really. Too much. You are absolutely breathtaking in every way, it’s just ... I ...” She puts her index finger on my mouth, the corners of her lips curled up, as she kisses me again. She pulls back, just as we deepen it. Taking my hand, she guides me outside. She lets go and lies down on the grass, gesturing to the spot next to her. I lay down, looking up at the stars as she points. “I get it. This isn’t something I thought I would be doing either. Look see those two stars, the ones that shine alternately.” “Yeah?” “If you will be so kind to let me be a bit over the top, I think they represent us.” I frown my eyebrows. “Stay with me here,” she laughs, “They are always shining, together, it’s just the people who never get to see them in union. It would be too beautiful for mediocre eyes.” We kiss. Maybe she was right. But as the plane moved in between them, something lied between us, too. My brother. Her boyfriend.
2 years later
“Harry,” she whispers into the phone. “I didn’t mean to ...”

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