Ooh, what book are you reading?
This Muggle book I bought over break. Have you heard of The Scarlet Letter? It’s quite fascinating!
I’ve read it! It’s so good!
davey-gudgeon liked your post: If you were stranded on an island, who do you wish to be with?
oh well hello Davey. How goes those detentions?
Oh shit! I knew I was supposed to do something today!
The awkward moment when even wearing a turtleneck for the whole of today didn’t cover up my love bites because apparently some people have a penchant for jaws.
Fuck you, Gudgeon. I haven’t been able to sit down all day.
#we really need to like go back in time and write this aat some point xD
He’s not nearly as responsible as he should be. I’m not too worried.
Haha, damn! He’s… responsible… sometimes ?
(Source: davey-gudgeon)
Davey was watching the smoke curl from his nostrils, a mixture of the frosty air that swirled around the Astronomy Tower and the cigarette smoke that burned on the way out. He took another long drag, swallowing the smoke past his throat, and watched, almost cross-eyed, as his drag burned away nearly half the cigarette.
Whenever he got the time, Davey smoked an average of five fags in one sitting, hurriedly and always looking over his shoulder; conscious of how James wouldn’t miss the opportunity to whack him with the beaters bat and rag on him about smoker’s lungs destroying his athletic ability and, by extension, the team’s chances if he was caught. Although, Davey had noticed, there was something different about James lately, something that made Davey altogether uncomfortable and worried for their captain.
He crossed his ankles and sighed, letting his body melt into the stone on his next exhale. He finished the fag and flicked it over the side of the Tower, watching the lit tip fall until the dark night below swallowed it up.
Davey wandered back inside, finally tired of torturing his near-frozen extremities.
While he was walking through the corridors, past the third floor, he saw Tom - the object of some of his more violently persistent fantasies of late. He jogged down the corridor to catch up to the shorter boy.
“Hey, Tom, Tom!” When Davey caught up he wrapped his hand around Thomas’ - thrumming, pulsing, warm - wrist to turn him around. He grinned broadly, “Hey, mate.”
Now, that’s just not fair. She says I’ve got to mop the toilets and polish all of the trophies in the Trophy Room. Usually, she just makes me finish the essay in detention, but no. Apparently shit just got real.
Watch your tongue, Mister Gudgeon, or it’ll be another week on top of that.
I think you’re in the clear for James killing anyone right now, trust me. I don’t know, Davey. I mean, I’ve been here since September, but I have every doubt in my mind McGonagall would ever lay off someone for an assignment.
James not feeling the homicidal urge to kill everyone over lack of Quidditch enthusiasm? What the holy hell is up with him?
(Source: davey-gudgeon, via meganfudge-deactivated20120315)
