Ilse sighed as she took another swig from the icy bottle of beer next to her papers and put it down, returning her head to its previous position atop her hand, slouching slightly against the bar. It was five o'clock on a Thursday evening: good posture be damned. Five o'clock on a Thursday evening and still so much bloody marking to be done. Granted, it was not due back until next week, but the N.E.W.T students really deserved all the time they could get, and they were far more swamped than Ilse was. 'One upside to being a professor, I guess,' she smirked and shook her head.
She knew she was right: life was far better now than it had been years earlier as a student on the receiving end of this marking from the formidable McGonagall. Some money in her pocket, freedom to go and be where she chose (hey, she could even do her marking in The Three Broomsticks) and a lot more life experience, it all seemed like it was working out after her wallflower years. Just a shame they couldn't stock any decent muggle craft beer in this place.
She glanced around the pub. It was quiet for a Thursday evening, but that was for the best, in her eyes anyway. No students sneaking out which would make her have to stuff the papers back into her bag and leave the congenial atmosphere for her empty office, or worse: the staff room. Her peers who were staff members were all well and good (and she secretly suspected she might begin to like some of them and perhaps become something akin to friends) but there were some horrific bores too, and doing work with a beer in hand and some strummy, only mildly annoying folk music in the background was preferable by miles.
Back to reading the papers. That one was worth a B; the next a C; the next a well-deserved A. She tried to make constructive criticism, but all too often she found herself physically biting her tongue as she tried to stifle the sarcastic tones in her head. "Ow!" That time she had bitten a bit too hard and her hand whipped to her mouth as a sharp pain stabbed her tongue. There was not much blood, but that acute pain similar to stubbing a toe which, so intense for ten minutes, would fade to nothing soon. 'Knowing that doesn't make it much better right now though, na?' She grimaced. Perhaps it had been ambitious trying to accomplish two classes' worth of homework after an already jammed day. "Let's just call it a night then. Maybe I'll get some done later on," she muttered to herself as she roughly shuffled the papers together and jammed them into her worn satchel bag. Returning upright she leaned back against the wall and observed the pub again. This was by far the best spot: at the bar for good conversation, but in the corner and able to see everything. She'd pulled her book out and flicked it open to page sixty; time for some casual reading and people-watching. A sip of beer and a slight glance at a group she suspected might just be students; a wry smile. She'd only just directed her eyes back to her text when she felt a touch on her shoulder and almost jumped out of her skin.
"Argh! Jesus! Was machst du denn?" she squealed, spinning round before her brain could process that she hadn't used English words. 'Really gotta stop reading German books during term Ils..." She shook the thought out of her head and glanced up. "Oh! Hi! I'm so sorry, you startled me somewhat..."
