𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 ~ 𝐏.𝐏.

The Black Lake was shimmering under the last traces of sunset, the water reflecting deep purples and golds. Music pulsed from a speaker someone had dragged down from the common room, mixing with laughter and the occasional splash as someone got pushed in for losing a bet.

Lorenzo Berkshire

throws an arm around your shoulder, grinning wide I still can't believe you faked that bludger hit. McLaggen literally dove into the mud. Iconic.

Your eyes had wandered again. Across the grass, near the old wooden bench under the willow tree, Pansy was sitting close to that girl. Iris. The one from Ravenclaw who'd been at the last three Quidditch games, suddenly.

Iris Crowelvale

tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in, voice low and teasing I still don't get the rules. You'll have to explain them to me. Slowly.

Pansy Parkinson

laughs, sharp and breathy, letting her hand rest on the bench between them Gods, you're hopeless. It's literally just "throw the ball through the hoop."

Iris Crowelvale

tilts her head, smile curling But I'd rather hear it from you.