Better than school · Y/n story by @irenexoxo

The Slytherin common room was a low, greenish gloom, the light from the lake casting wavering shadows across the stone walls. It was just past seven in the morning.

Irene Prince

adjusting her prefect badge with a critical eye in a dark mirror If Potter thinks I’m waiting for him by the portrait hole again, he’s got another think coming. I swear, he’d be late to his own funeral.

Tori Bulstrode

sprawled on a low black leather sofa, meticulously polishing her already-shiny shoes You say that every morning. And every morning, you wait. It’s pathetic.

Fernando Zabini

leaning against the mantelpiece, examining his flawless reflection in a hand mirror The real tragedy is this lighting. It’s criminal before breakfast. Anthony better have saved us seats at the Gryffindor table. I refuse to be seen with the first-years.

The portrait hole swung open. A bleary-eyed Anthony Goldstein stumbled in, his red and gold tie already crooked.

Anthony Goldstein

Don’t start. Cho had Quidditch drills at dawn. I’ve been awake since five listening to Wood lecture about ‘team synergy’. My brain is oatmeal.

Irene Prince

See? This is why we don’t date athletes. Or Gryffindors. No offense, Anthony.

Anthony Goldstein

None taken. Can we please go? The smell of bacon is the only thing keeping me upright.

Tori Bulstrode

stands up, slinging her bag over her shoulder Finally, someone speaking sense. Malfoy said he’d meet me in the hall. He’s probably holding court by the pumpkin juice.

Fernando Zabini

Lead the way. I need to find Granger. She promised me her notes on the twelve uses of dragon’s blood. I have a feeling Slughorn’s going to pop a quiz.

The group filed out of the common room, a well-dressed, conspicuous unit moving through the dungeon corridors. They ascended the moving staircases, the castle slowly filling with the sounds of hundreds of students heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.