scatterbrain.

“I know that right now probably ain’t the time to be askin’, but could I look over your notes? I saw they looked so pristine and I’d just love to take a peek.” Rosemary drawled out, her voice meek and timid. “If I don’t pass defense against the dark arts I’m gonna be in a world of trouble.”

Jasmine had needed to get out of the Gryffindor common room, needing a bit of time to herself, something that didn’t often happen. She’d always preferred to be with people when she wasn’t in her best mood, though that wasn’t the case today. The quarter Veela was singing one of the choir songs whilst painting, feeling relatively relaxed for the first time in the past few days. However, she hadn’t heard the person approach, completely caught up in her own little world. 

Wendy was intrigued when she heard someone sing --- curious, even. While she figured that the person she heard wanted some privacy, she couldn’t help herself. She was desperate for something good, something light, something to keep her mind of the reality they were all stuck in. Eyes fell on her roommate quite soon, and she smiled a little. “You should sing me to sleep sometime,” she said, as she moved into the room. “Mind if I stick around? Was thinking of painting a bit, too.” A pause. “You can keep singing. I might join you, even. You know some Fleetwood Mac?”

“If it will make you feel better then I’d love to hear one.” Daisy was still having trouble processing everything that had happened. The best way to cope with that for her was trying to help everyone around her.

“I’m trying to make others feel better with them, but I guess I feel better because of them, too,” she says, shrugging a little as she thinks. “We should start calling pillow fights playing whomping pillows.”

❝’M not sure it’ll help all that much, but I don’t guess it can make things worse, can it?❞

“My thoughts exactly. Okay, so, you should never lose me, because I’m a Keeper.”

“I guess? I’m not sure exactly how well it’s going to work but it’s worth a try, I guess.”

“When our former headmaster’s asleep, he Dumble-snores,” she says, a grin on her lips. “Did it work?”

“A pun? oh ys please that sounds lovely I could use a nice laugh.”

“ALRIGHT. What kind of songs do planets sing?”

“I–,” Hestia shut her mouth before she could let the words spill forth, an angry bitter mess of vitriol and poison. “Sure.” Her voice was hollow, and small, emotions stuffed as far down as she could push them as she looked at the elder girl.

“RIGHT. So, don’t you agree that we should be calling the Great Squid the INK-redible Squid in stead? It’d be much more appropriate.” Wendy wished she’d something more useful to say, but all the words she thought of saying felt wrong. A pun would have to do, she supposed.

“A ….. pun?” Ros didn’t find puns amusing, but even more, ve didn’t find them funny. “I’ll have to PASS, Slinkhard. Maybe if you’d had an actual joke I’d be interested.”

“Are you saying puns aren’t ACTUAL JOKES?,” asked Wendy, sounding offended on the behalf of puns. She overplayed it, hoped to start a discussion about puns --- that’d be a nice distraction. “Because then you’d be awfully wrong, and I would need an explanation.”

“I don’t think it’s bullshit, Wendy, I think it’s true. Well, I think it’s the second best medicine after pot,” Miriam couldn’t help but laugh, “hit me with your best pun.”

“You are absolutely right. Pot is the best medicine ----- it CAN-nabis solve all your problems!” Wendy laughed a little, too, and was glad for it. “Not my best, but topical, huh?”

Wilbert slouched, “Not fresh at all.” He said groaning leaning back in his chair, resisting his textbook, but eyed it. He nodded slowly “Is it icky?” He asked, knowing if it tasted anything like muggle cough medicine he wouldn’t be touching it. He pouted, his mouth dry, “Don’t tell mom.” He whined. 

“Oh, I’m going to TELL her all about last night,” she said, giving Wilbert a serious look before grinning. “About how I got high and drunk last night and how you, too, finally partied like a real rebel. I do that after every party. She loves the gossip.” She was overexerting herself, her brain tired from last night, her body craving a release, but her mouth kept moving. “It’s alright, you’ll survive. It’s no pumpkin juice, but it’s ... drinkable.”

“It’s how I deal with all my problems!” Jasmine smiled at her, “Well, we can talk about this tomorrow or something. I don’t want you to miss out on the party.”

“We will!,” she said, her words an empty promise. When sober, Wendy barely talked about the feelings cooped in her chest ( which should worry her, perhaps ). “Let’s have some fun, then. What d’ya wanna do? I could use a snack.”

“I can’t particularly agree with you there but you do you.” Bellatrix shrugged, “Whatever, you’re going to lose no matter not. Actually, you go first. I’ll at least give you a slight chance.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘f course,” she said quickly. Bellatrix was an interesting figure, to say the least. “Oooh. Confident. I do play Quidditch, you know, so I know my way around a ball.” Wendy grinned, before bouncing the ball right into one of the other’s cups. “See?”

Wilbert was in the library, smacking his head against his textbook every ten minutes, dosing off, his head pounding. Groaning as he sat up, after connecting his forehead to the pages again, he glanced up to see someone staring, “Blimey if you have something for this concussion I’m giving myself, give it to me now.” 

“Yeah, I do: stop smacking your head against that book,” said Wendy, a giggle slipping past her lips. “Not feeling so fresh, then?” She wasn’t either; her hangover was gone thanks to a sweet combination of potions, but she still felt sticky. “I’ve got some hangover antidote left, if you want some. IF this is a hangover, that is, and if so, I’d be proud.”

He took a long drag, handing back the lighter with outstretched palm, grass-stains smearing the cuff of his jumper. He never was the neatest around, tobacco dusting his fingers, trainers scuffed and laces trailing in the dirt, but it had never bothered him much either. The House pride was more to bring out a smile from Wendy than a reflection of himself, but it wasn’t as if he was against the notion of having faith in Gryffindor, he had just never been quite sure that it was where he really belonged. He looked at his fellow House-mates, hot-blooded and passionate, and then he looked at the Hufflepuffs, with kindness in their eyes and an easy demeanor akin to his own, and wondered what it was that the hat had seen in him, all those years ago. Though Gryffindor had also introduced him to the people he loved most in the world, so it had never been a mistake. 

Peter exhaled, smoke snaking into the cool evening air, and nodded. “Yeah I get what you mean, can be nice to drag it out a bit.” He gave a soft laugh at her second sentence, “You and me both pal, I haven’t been without a box of straights on me since I was about twelve - don’t tell my dad.” He winked at her, then held the spliff out to Wendy as if to toast to something, “To many more joints.”

Wendy was glad to have found Peter --- he made her feel at ease, as if the bar was somehow lowered around him. She didn’t feel that way because she had a low opinion of him, or anything like that: he was just easygoing. He was a bit messy and she was, too, and he was above all, mellow. She could relax around him, and there were plenty of people she could not do that with. She tiptoed around them as she tried to figure out which words to use, which way to look, to act, to BE --- it was tiring. Now that school had started up, she’d been stuck in a constant limbo of overthinking her words and saying the stupidest things, and she was exhausted, frankly. But with Peter it was easier. 

“Exactly! I do like edibles, too, but they can drag on for TOO long sometimes,” she said. “Which isn’t always bad, but sometimes? It’s the worst.” She took the spliff, taking a long drag as she watched the smoke curl in the air. “Or, preferably, spliffs. Right?” Wendy’s eyes were trained on the sky now, her foot wiggling on the beat of the music. “I’m gonna miss this, next year.”

“Sorry, it just can’t escape my mind! I think I just need to drink more to forget about all of this.” The brunette pulled her friend into a hug. “You don’t fuck up! You’re doing great. What makes you think otherwise? Do I need to hex someone?”

“Yes, yes, you should. This party is all about forgetting about school, not about worrying about it.” Wendy returned the hug, fell quiet for a moment, wondering why these stupid words kept falling from her mouth. “I do, but it’s fine, it’s --- it’s fine. I’m gonna fix it and I’m gonna try and have fun now, ‘cause this party isn’t about crying ‘bout stuff, either.”