“Damn this test is kicking my ass.” Peter drawled lazily to no one in particular, running his fingers through his hair, trying to mess it up in that casually elegant way James used to be so proficient at when they were in school together and failing miserably. He was on his third ice-cream of the hour, but the only way he could see himself getting through the massive pile of homework he had been given with his sanity still intact was with a lot of comfort food to make it all seem a little more bearable. Applying to University had been a joke at first, he hadn’t actually thought he would get in. What’s more, he hadn’t thought it was possible for any subject to give out more homework than he had been used to at NEWT level. Sadly, he was coming to realise that he had been mistaken. He found that he was mistaken about a lot of things these days.Â
He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair again, mixing up his pencil with the straw to his ice cream and spluttering when he gets wood splinters on his tongue, knocking over his glass in the process, successfully ruining an afternoon’s work. “Oh fuck.” He hisses, jumping out of his chair with a look of dismay so dramatic that it would seem comical to anyone else who spotted it. “You mind getting me a tissue?” This was directed at the person nearest him, as Peter frantically dabbed at his test with his shirtsleeve, achieving virtually nothing. “Please?”Â