*copy and paste*
There. Done.
Timothy Montgomery paused, looking at his work. After much deliberation he'd decided that he spent more time in the dormitory than at home, so he may as well make it seem more homely. This change came simply in the form of a stack of his favourite books being laid next to his bedside table. Simple, yet just what he liked. If he ever couldn't sleep, there was always a pile of great literature at hand to entertain him.
His eyes lingered on the top book, a NEWT Transfiguration textbook, a reminder of his looming exams. And after exams, there would be no more Hogwarts. It almost didn't bear thinking about sometimes, leaving Hogwarts. It had been a part of his life for over six years, and now it was nearly at an end.
Timothy's mother always told him that life was about moving onwards, doing different and greater things. But he didn't want to move on, he knew now that his loyalties lay here, at school. He sat down on the bed, the old hinges in the mattress creaking as he did so. It wasn't fair.
He stared at his arrangement for a moment more, his eyes narrowing slightly. Something was wrong. Something.
He put it right, and gazed once more on his table. He'd added a picture, the Christmas tree that Emily had drawn for him. It reminded him of Emily, and the thought or prescence of Emily always calmed his thoughts.
There. Perfect.
Timothy Montgomery paused, looking at his work. After much deliberation he'd decided that he spent more time in the dormitory than at home, so he may as well make it seem more homely. This change came simply in the form of a stack of his favourite books being laid next to his bedside table. Simple, yet just what he liked. If he ever couldn't sleep, there was always a pile of great literature at hand to entertain him.
His eyes lingered on the top book, a NEWT Transfiguration textbook, a reminder of his looming exams. And after exams, there would be no more Hogwarts. It almost didn't bear thinking about sometimes, leaving Hogwarts. It had been a part of his life for over six years, and now it was nearly at an end.
Timothy's mother always told him that life was about moving onwards, doing different and greater things. But he didn't want to move on, he knew now that his loyalties lay here, at school. He sat down on the bed, the old hinges in the mattress creaking as he did so. It wasn't fair.
He stared at his arrangement for a moment more, his eyes narrowing slightly. Something was wrong. Something.
He put it right, and gazed once more on his table. He'd added a picture, the Christmas tree that Emily had drawn for him. It reminded him of Emily, and the thought or prescence of Emily always calmed his thoughts.
There. Perfect.