Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
— hi!! —
"Godric, I'm starving," Miles Bletchley groans as he slams his locker shut, running a hand through his hair that's wet from coming fresh out of the shower.
"Didn't we tell you to eat before practice?" I roll my eyes as I aggressively rub my own wet hair with a towel, feeling an ache in my wrist as I do so. The ache isn't exactly from Quidditch, nor the strenuous daily workout schedule Montague has us on (and is on our asses to keep up), but rather from last night's activities. A seventh year, Zola Everglade, joined me in kicking the boys out of the dorm last night, and she quite particularly liked the way I use my hands, which meant I spent a vast majority of the night doing exactly that and then another hour deep cleaning my rings.
"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy," he rolls his eyes. "And put on a shirt. You're not impressing anyone with those birdcage ribs."
I glance down, seeing nothing but lean abs built from hours of working out. I just smirk, letting the comment pass knowing fully well that it's Miles's hunger akin to pregnancy cravings that's talking.
A cool gust of wind hits my back as someone opens the door and lets it slam shut.
"Is that Celeste?" he asks suddenly, his eyebrows perked.
I glance up at him immediately, scanning his face before looking over my shoulder to see Celeste standing at the door to the locker rooms, a bored expression on her face as she shivers and rubs her arms. She's wearing her school uniform except for her robes, though I see her robes folded up and tucked under her arm. Celeste's grey sweater's sleeves are pulled down over her finger tips, making the collar pop off one of her shoulders. Her locker, typically hidden inside her white shirt, is golden and gleaming right under the knot of her green tie. She's wearing a skirt and those knee-high socks, legs trembling a bit, though I see her flex her muscles to get it to stop. Celeste looks around, still bored, but clearly looking for someone in particular. Her eyes don't land on me.
I then look back forward to drop the towel and start rummaging through my locker and my bag to find my clean clothes.
"Why's she here? Do you know?" Miles asks as he tucks his tie under his own grey sweater, his eyes flicking to me momentarily before resting back on Celeste.
"Why would I know?" I shrug as I find my white button up and shrug the sleeves on.
I turn around fully to look at Celeste as I start buttoning it up only to see her already looking at me. Her eyes aren't on my face, though, but rather my stomach and chest as I deliberately slow down the pace of my hands so that I can give her more to look at for a couple seconds extra, flexing my abdomen as I smirk to myself. Her head starts tilting and lips start parting as her eyes glaze over, focused on my chest, when someone calls her name.
