| back to black | {g. weasley}

[ eight ]

Everyone's vision was clouded...

Quite literally.

An opaque fog the same pink shade as bubblegum blocks filled every bit of the room starting from under Professor Binns' desk. Along with the growing fog came heavy coughs and spaced chuckles from a select few students as the entire class starts to the quaint room's doors.

Pushing it open, the smoke spills into the empty hall. About 20 students fall out with it, many of them coughing into the crook of their robes and glancing back to see their fellow classmates emerge from the cotton-candy cloud.

The three miscreants are in the midst of the crowd. They make a right turn out of their mess; goofy smiles are plastered on each of their faces as they hack out a few coughs between their fit of chuckles.

"Okay," Evelyn stops a ways down the hall and coughs into her inner elbow once again. "I didn't think it would be that strong."

"Or that big," Fred heaves. He and George look back at the cloud. It thins and tumbles down the halls, parting the students even more.

It was originally built to spew a small line of pink smoke from the pea-sized capsule at the top and to be fair, that is how it began. It was, however, once Professor Binns was filled with the smoke (his bored demeanor offsetting the now feverishly bright tone to his apparition build and his cluelessness to such fact making his presentation that much more amusing to the students who were watching his ghostly figure fill up with the pink like a rising thermometer) that a sharp CRACK sounded from the little ornament that had been rolled under his desk.

It had completely imploded.

The detonation alarmed everyone, even the droning history Professor. The three looked at each other in a short moment of worry and startling. Everyone else was simply confused until the thick fog was overtaking the room, then it turned into slight panic. There was amusement in some still, including the three behind the faulty smoke bomb, as they started their path out the door.

"What the hell did you put in that thing?" George asks her.

"Not that it's bad," Fred promises, "because that is bloody brilliant, Live-Wyre..." He wraps an arm around Evelyn's ballerina neck and nuzzles the top of her head with his knuckles as he gazes back at the thinning veil admiringly.

She giggles, pushing away from him. "Oi," she wriggles from his grasp and immediately pulls her long, dark waves from it's now roughed ponytail. She shakes it out as Fred and George high-five each other.

George then brushes her hair back and grabs either side of her face. She looks up at him and mirrors his brightly mischievous expression. "You're a genius," he tells her giddily.

Evelyn looks past George's proud grin of accomplishment to the product of her unique bomb now as well. "Eh— it was just all the same that was in our original recipe," she says, her voice slightly graveled from the smoke inhalation. George takes his hands from her face and holds them down in front of her, palms up. "Just... a little more gun powder and some pixie mix—" she gives George's hands a sharp slap and then coughs into her shoulder to rid the tickle in the very back of her throat. "Oh, and I got that sample of liquid meteor from the pre-release at Zunko's before school."