cigarette daydream || james potter

"Lookin' for the answer,"

The weak, hazy remnants of the early morning shadows were violently shattered as a sharp, brilliant sliver of early summer sunlight forced its way through a narrow gap in the heavy velvet bed curtains. The golden beam hit Estella directly across her closed eyelids, instantly melting away the lingering tendrils of her peaceful, dreamless sleep. She let out a long, thoroughly miserable groan, burying her face deeper into the plush fabric of her pillow as she aggressively turned her entire body around to face the dark stone wall. She fully intended to drift straight back into unconsciousness, but a sudden, terrifying realization sparked to life in her foggy brain: the term was nearly over, exams were looming, and she had morning classes.

With a breathless gasp, she bolted upright, the sudden movement causing her sheets to tangle violently around her ankles. She threw her legs over the edge of the mattress and cast a frantic, wide-eyed glance at the small brass clock ticking away on her bedside table. Her heart immediately leaped into her throat. According to the hands, she was practically late for History of Magic-a class where Professor Binns would absolutely not notice her absence, but McGonagall certainly would if she caught her lingering in the corridors.

Sprinting across the cold wooden floorboards, Estella practically threw the heavy oak doors of her wardrobe open with a loud, echoing bang. She frantically grabbed the first clean white button-down shirt she could find, tearing off her pajamas and hurrying to get changed in a whirlwind of sheer panic, her fingers fumbling blindly with the buttons as her mind raced.

A mere three minutes later, Estella was practically sprinting out of the Gryffindor portrait hole, her heavy leather school bag bouncing wildly against her hip. She was still desperately trying to loop her scarlet-and-gold tie around her uncollared neck as she navigated the sweeping stone staircases, her fingers working in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm. But as she rounded the corner of a grand, familiar corridor on the third floor, she passed beneath a massive, highly ornate pendulum clock affixed to the wall.

She paused mid-stride, her boots skidding slightly on the polished stone flagstones as she stared up at the Roman numerals. She blinked once. Twice. She checked her wrist, then re-examined the sweeping golden hands of the castle clock.

A profound, suffocating silence hung in the air before Estella let out an incredibly loud, deeply frustrated huff, her shoulders slumping in utter defeat. The clock on her bedside table was apparently a full forty minutes fast. She didn't have to be in the dungeons for at least another half an hour. Gritting her teeth and muttering a string of highly unladylike curses under her breath, she abandoned her tight tie and resolved to slowly make her way back toward the warmth of the Gryffindor common room to kill time.

But just as she turned down a heavily shadowed, arched hallway that led away from the library, her sharp eyes caught sight of a familiar, solitary figure walking briskly ahead. It was Kiran, their hands shoved deep into the pockets of their silver-trimmed Slytherin robes, their head cast firmly downward. Since the legendary birthday party that Sirius had thrown for the Lupin twins a few nights prior, Estella hadn't managed to catch a single glimpse of her friend, let alone sit down for a proper gossip session.

"Kiran! *Kiran!*" she called out, her voice echoing off the high stone ceiling.

The Slytherin girl flinched violently at the sound, spinning around on her heel with wide, panicked eyes that were completely swimming with an unspoken shock-a look that Estella's sharp instincts picked up on instantly.

"Merlin's beard, are you actually alright?" Estella asked, slowing her pace to a casual walk as she approached them, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.