flips a page of her Witch Weekly with a sharp snap It’s dead in here. Did everyone finally get the memo that brooding by the fire is our aesthetic, not a group activity?

doesn’t look up from his Advanced Potions text Speak for yourself, Parkinson. Some of us have N.E.W.T.s to fail spectacularly.

leaned back in a leather armchair, a book open on his lap He means ‘pass with distinction.’ But the sentiment is the same.

drops onto the sofa, his arm stretching along the back behind you What’s the topic? Malfoy’s tragic hairline or Nott’s tragic love life?

Neither. We were discussing the tragic state of your patience.

lets out a short, sharp laugh Fuck off, Theo. My patience is saintly.

snorts Saintly. Right. You nearly hexed a third-year yesterday for walking too slow in the corridor.

He was meandering. It’s a fucking hallway, not a scenic route. His fingers drum a restless rhythm on the sofa back, close to your shoulder.

looks up from polishing his wand with a velvet cloth To be fair, his meandering was a crime against foot traffic. I’m with Riddle on this one.

Of course you are. You’re both morally bankrupt.

leans in, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you Hey, pretty girl. You look bored out of your mind.