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i didn’t know you could be so pestering.

fortunate,    *  he repeats,  as though testing the word for weight,  for meaning.  his voice is quieter now,  less a provocation and more a thoughtful murmur,  like a man speaking to himself but loud enough for another to hear.  *   is that what you call it?  luck to inherit something you had no hand in building?

@obscuorus,     why wonder— when i’m already having to attend classes with those less fortunate to have it? 

@botanies,     when it’s insignificant,  i have no reason to pay attention to it—   [his eyes narrow at the other’s following comment,  using the wall as a head rest.]   maybe i’d ought to be more cheerful if everyone else wasn’t so daft.. and by all means,  /annoying/.   

@soltudes 
                             you don’t notice much,  do you?    [a casual,  yet snarky remark uttered underneath his breath.  smara felt with each passing day,  that he didn’t belong in the house he was sorted in.  especially with all the ones he ended up being sorted with.]    should i act like them?  maybe it’ll toughen you until you can handle their overly cheerful demeanour.    [it was a poor joke,  but a brief laugh escapes.]    i’m kidding,  can you not look horrified?  i’m not here to get on draco malfoy’s bad side,  no matter how horrible you can be.

@botanies,     have we?   i’ve never noticed.   [a careless shrug,  hoping to dismiss the other.  a brow quirks up in response to the next words that fall out of the other’s mouth.]   better you than some overly cheerful hufflepuff or worse.. potter and those dimwits.   

[the malfoy’s dorm room is foreboding with a certain sub—zero quality that felt particularly like a home away from home, swathed in bone—chilling cold snap amongst all qualities that made it nearly human—adjacent. her hands of affliction return back to where they had been.]          alright,          [pansy looks at draco and nearly sees a flash of the pictured adolescent face on his own contemporary.]          i won’t.          [the room was as disturbed as it had been when she arrived — which was to say, not at all. she stays still and quiet, as if beckoned into the wakefulness of the moment once more.]            —   they said that you’ve been here, hibernating. 

@simwng,     don’t touch that.    [snatching the framed picture out of her hands, he hated it.  he hated how foreign it felt to his eyes,  to his touch,  to his own memory— a time where his father was holding his shoulder proud and his mother had engulfed him in an embrace.]   i am not theo or blaise— do not go poking and prying into my things,  pansy.  

how a child ought to be at children’s age,   i suppose. 

/ hey!

since when have you been this sentimental? 

*      he has his moments hehe 

@blaesus,     / bye he’s so sweet.

[ his gaze softens, an almost imperceptible pity creeping into his expression.]   i suppose it’s easier to brood than actually let the world in, isn’t it?  [ he takes a slow sip, eyeing the crowd for a moment, then looks back at him.]   some of us find the noise a bit more..   tolerable when we stop taking it so seriously.  [ he shrugs, as if the matter is inconsequential, but there is a quiet invitation in his tone.]  
            
            *      he’s a sweetie..    Sometimes >:0