‘Just Best-friends, Right?’ | ೃ༄*

The Great Hall was loud. It was the first Monday back after the Christmas holidays, and the noise was a physical thing—a wall of overlapping chatter, laughter, and the clatter of cutlery against plates. The enchanted ceiling mirrored a cold, grey January sky.

Mattheo Riddle

elbows you lightly, not looking up from his phone You’re taking up all the bench. Move your leg.

Pansy Parkinson

He’s lying. He’s just trying to get you to look at whatever dumb thing he’s watching. leans over your shoulder Is it that video of the cat falling into the Christmas tree again?

Mattheo Riddle

It’s a new one. A dog on a skateboard. holds his phone screen toward you Look. It’s tragic.