languidly stretching her arms over her head I’m bored. I’m so bored I might actually do my Divination homework.

Don’t be grotesque, Pansy. She was meticulously reapplying a clear gloss, using her compact mirror to catch the sun. We have precisely three lessons this week. The boredom is a feature, not a bug.

nudging Y/n’s foot with her own Speaking of features. Did you see the way Malfoy’s hair was all messed up after practice? Wind-swept. It was a whole thing.

groaning, flopping onto her back Not this again. We’ve been over this. My brother’s biceps were also a ‘whole thing’ when he took his jersey off. I have eyes.

sits up abruptly Okay, new game. We rate the top five most painful ways to die of boredom before lunch. I’ll start: listening to Gilderoy Lockhart’s memoirs on audiobook, read by himself.

Watching Theodore Nott try to explain the offside rule to a first-year. Again. The sheer, beautiful frustration on his face. It’s art.

Being stuck in a broom cupboard with Blaise Zabini while he silently judges your life choices. She sighed dreamily. The silent judgement is so intense.

Having Enzo try to teach you how to tune a Beater’s bat. He gets all focused and his brow does this little furrow thing and he uses far too many technical terms just to sound smart. It’s infuriatingly attractive.

grinning wickedly at Y/n Your turn, chaos gremlin. Most painful boredom death. Go.