❂
❂: My muse is clumsy and crashes into yours.
Mary MacDonald could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d been late to a class throughout her Hogwarts career, and was set on not adding another tick to the count. She barreled through the corridors, slipping between throngs of students who had began to spill out of classrooms. A quick glance at her watch told her she only had less than two minutes to make it to Charms. In the brief moment she had stolen her gaze from the path, a boy had appeared in front of her, providing her little time to evade him. Shoulder first, she smacked into him, bag catching in the crook of her elbow as she spun. With wide, apologetic eyes she looked up at the boy. Amycus Carrow. She had planned on saying sorry, she really had, but for a moment articulating any sort of sentiment was far beyond her capabilities. She expected to be met with with a dismissive, curt retort, and would have almost preferred it to the dangerous calm that had glazed over his expression, lips tugging into a smirk. “MacDonald,” he said cooly, shifting his weight casually. “Please. Rude, running into people like that. Don’t make it a habit.” Mary averted her gaze, muttered a quick apology, and walked the rest of the way to Charms, not caring whether or not she was late quite so much anymore.