Summons

c a r d s

tw//slight mention of suicide

:daphne greengrass:

I was walking to the Great Hall for lunch, striding along with Pansy, as we do every day. The boys, Theodore, Draco, and Blaise, were following closely behind. They were clearly engrossed in their conversation.

Through my years of surviving in Slytherin, I had learned to shut out other noise to focus on certain conversations. Slytherins tend to gossip, and I've found that this is really the best way to pick up secrets; the more secrets you know, the more people fear your knowledge, therefore you won't be messed with.

In this case, the extraneous noise being Pansy yapping on about some new dirt she had on someone, I shut her out and tuned into the boys' conversation. I picked up bits and pieces, filling in the gaps to make out the big picture, enough to know that Nott was currently going on about how we should all dress up for our little "game night", Malfoy and Zabini enthusiastically agreeing.

It wasn't hard to work out that, given their way, all of the girls would be in almost lingerie, tight corsets or lacy, barely-there bits of clothing. The highest of heels or some type of choker would definitely not be off the table.

"It seems the boys have decided us girls should dress for their amusement on Friday night," I whispered, leaning closer to Pansy's ear.

"What?" the witch exclaimed, the boys throwing us a look, but carrying on with their conversation. She clearly understood the insinuation. "We'll talk this over at lunch, I don't appreciate having these things thrown at me last minute," she huffed.

Heading through the doors of the Great Hall, I spotted the Gryffindors that we should be playing against on Friday night, the only one looking in our direction being Potter. With a curious look in his eye, the Gryffindor had my pulse going just the slightest bit faster.

I had never pegged him for the dominant type. Too nice. Other than that, he was curiously hard to decipher, unlike many of the others in even my own house. Slytherins always seemed to have a wall up, not letting anyone see their weakness, and yet I could still see through them. Not him, though.

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:pansy parkinson:

I was on my way to History of Magic with Daphne at my side, telling her about Hestia Carrow's new poster-worthy conquest. As in, "Merlin, this is so juicy I want to print it on about 500 posters and plaster them all over the school". I was just about to finish up my story when there was a flash of red and I was knocked to the floor. I regained my footing, picked up my books that fell out of my bag, and whipped around to yell at whoever just knocked me over. Realizing it was that Weasley boy, I felt my face go hot with even more rage.

"Watch where you're going, Weasel!" I yelled.

"Oh, good one. Who'd you get that from, Malfoy?"

How dare he! I don't need anyone's help for insults!

"How dare you! How about you shut it and just go shove your head in a toilet, I heard moaning Myrtle is looking for some company."

Daphne just stood there, waiting for us to stop yelling so we could finally get on to class.

"And I suppose you wouldn't be sufficient company. Five minutes with you and Myrtle would forget she's already dead and try to off herself again," he finished, turning around.