Lunchtime, continued

[teh_wiz]

The crackle in the air wasn't just end-of-year nerves, and it had to happen.

"Declinatio." The spell deflects general attention away from the two Slytherin witches. As he strides the bench length to where Misses Bulstrode and Parkinson are, not to put to fine a point on it, behaving like six-year-olds, the atmosphere of the Hall changes from

Comments

[zabini_b]

Blaise blinks and looks down at the notebook he's holding, its pages covered with illegibly scrawled numbers.

He says "Er."

[draco_itero]

Millicent's got food all over her, but it hurts Draco more than normal to look closely at her.

"Blaise," he hisses, squinting, "there was something with Pansy, right?"

[zabini_b]

"I...think so. They were, um. Something."

Dumbledore passes them with tiny, quick steps. Pansy follows icily and tosses her head when she catches sight of Blaise.

"It would seem that Parks is in trouble."

This is vaguely troubling, but because he is eighteen and even though he is a Zabini, his stomach takes precedence over his intellect. Blaise takes Draco's elbow and hauls him forward, narrowly missing a slippery patch on the floor that looks like gravy.

"Come on, there's still food left."

[draco_itero]

Draco remembers he had a plan for lunch, and the thing that just happened--whatever it was--provides the perfect opportunity.

He should, of course, have done this at breakfast-time, but he had other things on his mind then and there are still a number of the items in question still about.

"The other end," Draco nods, "away from all this detritus." The last is aimed at Millicent, not Blaise, who is dangerously close to ensconcing himself with a plate of roast vegetables.

The way Draco sees it, the clearest path is between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff table.

[zabini_b]

"Make your mind up," says Blaise, stealing a parsnip from a first year's over-loaded plate. The first year yelps and looks heartbroken, then retaliates by stealing a handful of potatoes from his neighbour. Blaise hopes he has started a Mexican Wave of food theft that will travel up and down the table all lunchtime, until no one has the same meal he started with.

He calculates the odds of this happening, then realises that Draco is already twenty yards away and gathering speed. He stuffs the parsnip into his mouth and strides after him.