#primitusstarter

"Hallo? Is there someone?"

Rita had curled herself up on the bench of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Her hand was scribbling quickly on her parchment, what exactly she wasn't sure. A story would soon come to her once she sat in that spot long enough, she could write ten stories from the drama that transpired at Hogwarts.

She had just began to write another word when she felt a tap on her shoulder and a small frown soon graced her face at the physical contact. Rita didn't like to be t o u c h e d. Yet, this person was an offender of her own personal space. She quickly whipped her head around to figure out who had interrupted her private time.

Slowly, deliberately, her eyes roved the crowd, lingering here and there. Whoever had put this together had done a decent job of decorating, even by her standards; the guest list was something else, but then again, predictability was boring. Cleo took one sip from her full glass, its undefined mixture warming the back of her throat, hinting at the amount of alcohol it carried. However, like many others, she was still guarded. The happenings of the Winter Ball had startled nearly all of them, and it irked her to see the division creeping further and further into Hogwarts; whatever philosophical reasons both parties had, both of those were dwarfed by her displeasure at the new regulations.

However, her mood brightened as she spotted one of her favourite housemates walking through the crowd; catching his eye, she winked, a slow, deliberate grin spreading over her face, before she left the fauteuil she’d been sprawled out on, coming into step next to him.

“Hey, Rosier. What a surprise to see you mingling with us lowly mortals this night.” A faint half-smirk, a questioning raised eyebrow in fake surprise.