#huffzy

baby, it’s cold outside! status: accepting!

Looking up from her astronomy book, default frown on her face, she stares at the hufflepuff student then at the direction they’re looking at. Indeed it is snowing, the soft looking specks of snow falling down in randomized pattern. It wasn’t too much that it would hinder any classes from continuing, but more on like the tempting feeling of wanting to go outside. She places a bookmark between the pages of her book and closes it shut, places it inside her bag, and she walks over the taller girl, tugs on her robes, and tilts her head to the side, gesturing towards the window, 

for everything it’s worth, mikhail thinks that suzy bae is not an entirely despicable person. all things considered, she’s actually pretty decent. but so far all she’s been is a temporary annoyance, if not someone to be ashamed of knowing. if she isn’t so pleasing to look at ( he’d rather cut his tongue out than call her anything close to pretty ), he might not even look at her at all. these if only’s and but’s all add up to the conundrum that he faces every morning during breakfast: is today the day he finally makes the call to free her father from the tyranny of employment?

today, the answer is not yet, mostly because mikhail is slightly uncomfortable about going through with his decision while suzy is in the backseat of a car with him. as expected, a chauffeur had been ready to pick them up from the train platform ( muggle, not 9 3/4 ), but the traffic is horrendous in london in peak hours, especially during the holidays; especially on the way to the airport.

it’s not the flight time that worries him. they’ll be flying on a private jet. while a portkey may be useful and efficient, mikhail neither trusts his own skills in making one, nor trusts any muggle employee not to touch it. ( people are terribly curious creatures, after all. 

nevertheless, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have his wand under his coat, ready to defend himself from the girl sitting next to him if need be. perhaps it’ll be good to make conversation; awkwardness never suited him anyway. 

“so -- some caribbean island, or bali? i’m inclined to choose the latter,” he says quickly, “but we can go wherever you want. i think your father’s flying our jet today...but he might also be flying my parents across the ocean. either way,” he returned to his phone, unbearably bored, “i don’t care as long as it’s somewhere warmer than england.”   

@huffzy:

-

she quiets just for a moment, palms flat against the bed, one on either side, still ready to run from the looks of it.

“why are you here?”

whiplash.

he felt like he was getting whiplash. he watched her silently, eyebrows tightly knit, lips pressed, unsure of whether to laugh or not. judging from the way she reacted, and continued, still, in that instant, he knew he fucked up. not really in the sense that she’d never see him again — hopefully not — but in the real sad, guilty way. and he really did feel that now — sad and guilty.

“no, i’m not. i haven’t left yet because peyton’s being... are you alright?” at that point, he couldn’t hold it; he laughed, albeit nervously and with utmost caution, somehow a bit afraid he would tick her off. “that’s fine, i wasn’t planning on taking you anywhere. no need to break from your comfort or anything. er, well — i guess i already kind of ruined that for you.”

upon inquiry, he grinned immediately and held his perfectly wrapped box up in the air, waving it. “merry christmas. i figured i’d give it you now before i left. you can open it now if you'd like, up to you.”

@huffzy

the night wasn’t so bad, he thought. more or less sober, under the watchful eye of his beloved twin, he had to be. if she had seen the way he gained momentum, toxic in his veins, somehow he’d find himself back in the dorms before the night would be over. no doubt about it.

finally escaping her, he weaved through the floor and situated himself among his group of friends. laughing and smiling. more or less sober. or not. peter was in a blaze to get his own fun started, drink in one hand as he moved to the music. he was hopeful to keep from spilling its contents.

so far he was doing a pretty decent job until he moved a little too much, crashing into another body on the floor. instinctively, his arm with the drink shot upward, teetering to keep the liquids from escaping the rim of the cup. the other arm wrapped tightly around the girl’s waist, who seemed pretty ready to keel over had he not grabbed her.

upon recognition, he wanted to laugh immediately, but he kept it in, in place of it a grin suggesting hilarity.