from the armchair across from you, not even looking up from filing her nails He's been like that all day, you know. Told you he'd be insufferable after Potions.

stretched out on the opposite sofa, a book balanced on his chest, one eyebrow raised To be fair, Slughorn did ask him to stay behind. That's basically a summons.

grins from where he's sprawled on the floor, head resting on a cushion A summons to ego-central. Dangerous territory.

seated beside Pansy, a Quidditch magazine open but his eyes fixed on the two of you Leave him be. He's clearly recovering from the trauma of being praised.

voice low, soft—nothing like the sharp drawl he used with anyone else So then Greengrass raises her hand and says, "Professor, I think the moonstone should be crushed counter-clockwise."

from the edge of the rug, elbowing Mattheo Here it comes.

smirks up at you, grey eyes catching the firelight And Slughorn goes, "An excellent suggestion, Miss Greengrass—if you'd like to turn your cauldron into a rather expensive paperweight."

snorts quietly, flipping a page She turned it blue for a week. I saw it in the corridor.

looks up, a sharp smile on her lips She deserved it. Tried to sit next to him at dinner yesterday. The look he gave her could've curdled milk.

grins I miss that look. You never give us that look anymore, Draco.

That's because we're not blonde and desperate.

quiet, meant only for you You weren't in Charms today. Did you skip?