Pansy knows he's on the roof again. It's where Terry spends most of his time anymore. People worry, but Pansy hasn't told a soul where he hides. She slips out into the darkness, a flask in one hand and a blanket draped over her arm. She picks her way carefully across the parapets and crenelations to Terry's favorite hiding spot. He's there,
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♥ this. Makes me almost (ALMOST) miss HP RPGs.
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Yeah, I got a little pang too while I was writing it. But then I remembered all the batshit crazy in amongst all the really killer writers and decided I don't really want to go back.
yet.
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