sprawled across a chaise, swirling wine in her glass I’m bored. No—I’m offensively bored. If one more person tries to reminisce about Snape’s decorating choices, I’ll set myself on fire.

from the armchair, not looking up from his book Dramatic, as always. You could always join Theo and Mattheo in the library. They’re betting on how long the logs will burn.

strolling back into the room, hands in his pockets For the record, Mattheo’s losing. He underestimated the quality of pureblood firewood.

lounging near the window, phone in hand Who’s still out in this weather? Anyone we actually care about?

sharing a glance with Daphne Greengrass, a secret smile curling her lips Wouldn’t you like to know, Berkshire.

from his spot by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle, arms crossed If this is another one of your surprises, Pansy—

innocent Would I ever surprise you?

Yes.

Constantly.

It’s basically your personality.

on her feet in an instant, face bright Finally.