¹.　ᴵ ᴬᴹ 𝒂

  ⁰.    who  even   are   you?          is a question she’s heard all night.          from herself,     tipsy   &   suspiciously existential,    or coming from pricks who like to get in her face for being a new face in the crowd.          she’d spat the question back each time,     sour in her throat,     before stalking away into a new corner to simmer in privacy.          she’d been the new girl before,     &   she had daphne there just as much as she has her here now,     which helps a ton     . . .     but mum not so much.          but that’s totally not happening right now.          no,     thank you.          she is not thinking about that,     &   a drink should help that happen quicker than finding daphne in a childish panic would.

        just as she makes it to the drinks station,     someone’s leaving.          at the risk of being rude,     she lightly taps their shoulder   &   pulls a “sorry” face for when they turn.          “i’m  so  sorry,     could  you  please  clue  me  in  on  what’s  what  with  the  drinks?          i’m about to go in blind.”          she gives a small laugh to ease her own tension,     perhaps unsuccessfully. 

 ⁰.    hogwarts,     aka  her  hell  away  from  hell.          how she had longed to return   &   how she now longs to escape.          a cycle as familiar as it is vicious.          if a certain rag hag didn’t stir the school up,     she would have been gone the second they let a broomstick back in her hand.          (well,      no,     but  she  would  have  fantasized  about  it.)          but misery loves company,     so here she is,          miserably laughing at someone else.          it’s basically free therapy for someone as masochistic as her.

        “and  here  i  was  thinking  the  goblin’s  gazette  wouldn’t  have  anything  juicy  to  report  on  in  the  first  month.          rarely  am  i  wrong,     but  at  least  when  i  am,     it’s  worth  it.”

location: black lake ; upperclassmen start of term bonfire

status: open to anyone! ♡

cormac’s already a few drinks in and feeling pleasantly tipsy, sitting near the bonfire and twirling his wand between two fingers as he stares into the flames, feeling the warmth on his face. he’s already had some interesting conversations, bragged about himself and his summer vacation to more than a few people, as well as performed some party tricks he’s been practicing, with much success. he’s in a lull between party companions, taking the moment of reprieve to appreciate the feeling of being back on campus, especially with all of the excitement so soon in the school year. it terrifies him a little bit  -— the thought of some nameless, faceless gossip monger revealing everyone’s deepest secrets, but he distracts himself from this thought by taking another sip of his drink, instead deciding to focus on the gossip itself, since it doesn’t actually have anything to do with him, mercifully.

“do you think dumbledore topped grindelwald, or the other way around?” he blurts out the first thought in his mind to the nearest person to him, leaning towards the person and pursing his lips in thought. “not that it really matters, because ew, but honestly, the dick or hole must’ve been fire to be crazy enough to break a mass murderer out of azkaban,” he muses, his glass halfway back to his lips as he lets out a chuckle.

 ¹.    you  can  hear  parvati  audibly  gag  from  her  seat.          if there’s one thing she could count on cormac mclaggen for     (&  she  truly  does  only  mean  one),     it’s to be the biggest dog on this side of the uk.          if she didn’t,     unfortunately,     know from personal experience,     she’d even swear there was a wagging tail hiding under those robes.

        "fucking  hell,   cor,   keep  your  wank  fantasies  to  yourself.          don’t  damn  the  rest  of  us  to  knowing  what  goes  on  in  that  thing.”          she takes a shot to chase the image away,     &   then another for good measure.          “now,     do  you  promise  to  behave  or  do  i  have  to  bat - bogey  you  out  my  space?”

location: black lake ; upperclassmen start of term bonfire

status: open to anyone! ♡

anthony’s eyes scan the faces around him as he looks around the party, trying to find someone to either converse with, or flirt with -— whichever situation happened to present itself. he’d lost track of time during a rather competitive game of exploding snap, and somehow during the game all of his companions had seemed to find themselves otherwise occupied, and while he’s sure that they’d warned him of where they’d gone when they left, anthony had been far too engrossed in the game to take any note of it. trying to wrack his alcohol-muddled brain leads to no helpful leads, and he takes a sip from the half full glass in his hand as he scopes out his surroundings.

it’s while he has his head turned and looking behind him that a form stumbles into him from the side, not giving him enough time to move out of the way before he’s being knocked into the closest person on the other side of him, the person having knocked into him already stumbling off in their drunken stupor without so much as an apology. “arsehole,” he murmurs with a roll of his eyes before he’s turning back to the person he’d been forcibly pushed into, his eyes widening when he sees their spilled drink all over their front.

“shit, i’m so sorry, i had no idea that sorry sod was even coming my way,” he apologizes, sincerity coating every word. “here, let me get that,” he offers as he grabs his wand, casting a quick scourgify charm to remove the liquid from where it was splashed all over their front.

 ¹.    “oh!”          is the first thing out of her mouth,     followed by,     “oh.”     when she looks up for long enough to realize just who she’s standing in front of.          shit.          the stain disappears,     but her embarrassment lingers,     heating her face.          she should just say sorry,     run off,     &   find her sister.          but she does none of that.          in fact,     she does nothing but stand there,     like a stupefied gnome.          all she can seem to do is look.

        before she can break the silence herself,     or finally will herself to run off into safety like the coward she’s never been,     there’s another body bumping into hers,     sending her forward into his arms.           “oh!”          she wants to slap herself     (is  oh  the  only  word  she  knows?),     but her hands are currently occupied by anthony’s chest     -     something she’s trying very,     very     hard not to think about.          but at least that breaks through her distraction   &   uncorks her voice box from its hiding place in her throat,     a huff of laughter that doesn’t sound anything like her own paving the way.          “i  guess  it’s  my  turn  to  apologize.”    

       she was, honestly, focusing on not laughing. it had been hours since what she’s heard some students dub ’ the incident ’. after his initial urging, grasping onto the last bit of dignity he had, professor dumbledore was ushered away by the other teachers at the head table. they were followed by a sheepish hagrid and sprout. professor snape cast an accusatory glance at the gryffindor table before making an exit as well. she was practically vibrating all evening, until she was able to make her way to the bonfire.

“can you believe it?” she asked the first student she saw, hands clasped around a mug of hot cocoa. “i mean, i had ideas about all of it, but it all actually being true? i’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” she chattered excitedly, her heart beating at the idea of this much excitement this early in the term. “i mean, who could even cast a spell like that?”

  ¹.    “you  sound  impressed.”          sure, he’s just outed himself to the petty crime of eavesdropping,     but he’s done a lot worse where lavender’s concerned.          surely this can’t spoil his case any further.          (can  it?)

        he’s been trying to keep his distance.          really  really.          but he’s three firewhiskey shots  in,     &   his head,     formally known as     hermione  granger,     is on the other side of the bonfire.          bad decision time is now or never,     &   his heart has clearly chosen now.

location: hogwart’s library

status: open to anyone! ♡

despite the fact that blaise had anticipated this year being an eventful one, he hadn’t expected it to be this eventful this quickly. he had been looking forward to coming back to school almost immediately as soon as he left for the summer, and had felt an immense wave of relief the moment he stepped onto the hogwarts express, knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with his mother outside of a few perfunctory letters for the next few months, at the least. however, while he certainly does think the juicy news everyone has been tittering about since the winking witch’s appearance yesterday is interesting, the excitement had faded for him pretty quickly, and all he really wants at this point is for one single conversation about anything other than the latest gossip.

which is exactly the reason why blaise finds himself holed up in a far corner of the library, getting a head start on some studying and coursework when he feels someone drop down into the seat next to him. he almost wants to roll his eyes, but he refrains, not even bothering to look up from the textbook in front of him as he addresses the figure next to him. “if you’re here to talk about the latest news, you should know that, yes, like the rest of the school, i did hear the news, and no, i don’t give a fuck, and don’t plan on engaging in a conversation about it.”

 ¹.    “you  are  never  beating  the  “books  are  my  friends”  allegations,   zabini.”         while she,     unlike some,     is not a huge buzzkill,     she’s still a slytherin,     &   that means she knows when to pick her battles.          sure,     she’ll take this opportunity to let her throat rest from harping on about hurricane dumbledore,     but that doesn’t mean she’s doing it in the library.          "don’t  be  so  boring,     blaise.          c’mon,     picnic  by  the  lake?          bring  your  precious  books  if  you  want,     i  just  need  some  sun       . . .       haven’t  you  noticed  these  halls  feel  more  like  caskets  each  time  we  come  back?”

       she tugs on his perfectly done tie,     making sure he faces her for the incoming pout coming his way.          it hasn’t failed her in six years.          “i’ll  even  sneak  some  butterbeer  from  the  kitchens.          or  something  stronger!     -     if  you  don’t  grumble  all  the  way  down.”